Page 16 of Alien Guardian's Vow
I couldn't argue with that. I held his gaze. "Yes."
"And yet," he continued, the words seeming difficult for him, "your abilities – the very ones that caused this problem – have now saved us both. Twice."
I waited, sensing he wasn't finished.
"I've seen young warriors panic under less pressure," he admitted, his voice dropping slightly. "You remained focused, precise. Your methods..." he paused, searching for the right word, "...they have merit."
The acknowledgment hung between us, heavy and significant in its simplicity.
"The Elders teach that all ancient technology is dangerous," Varek continued, thinking aloud now, grappling with the implications of our survival. "That it must remain untouched, unstudied. But if the settlement continues to experience tremors and energy fluctuations... if the planet itself is failing..." He didn't finish the thought, letting the question hang in the charged air.
"Sometimes survival requires new approaches," I offered quietly.
He looked at me sharply, his gaze penetrating. "Even at the cost of tradition?"
"Especially then," I replied without hesitation.
Varek fell silent again, his lifelines pulsing gently beneath his skin. I could almost see the internal conflict playing out behind his golden eyes – generations of training and belief challenged by immediate, undeniable experience. His rigid worldview was cracking under the weight of reality.
"If the technology is already failing," he said slowly, the admission feeling like a betrayal of his upbringing, a fundamental shift in perspective, "and threatening the settlement... perhaps understanding it is not forbidden, but necessary."
The statement seemed to cost him something physical. His shoulders straightened, as if adjusting to this new, uncomfortable truth.
"Your people survived the Great Division," I pointed out gently. "They adapted then. Maybe it's time to adapt again."
His eyes met mine, golden and intense, holding a complex mixture of doubt, grudging respect, and nascent understanding. "Perhaps."
The single word contained volumes – acknowledgment, possibility, a recognition of value. The antagonism that had defined our interactions had irrevocably shifted into something far more complex. Not friendship, certainly not trust yet, but a recognition of necessity. Of a shared path forward, forced upon us by circumstance and amplified by the strange connection humming beneath our skin.
"We should continue," he said, pushing away from the wall, resuming the mantle of command, of duty, perhaps as a refuge from the confusing shift in perspective. "There may be other hazards ahead."
I nodded, falling into step beside rather than behind him as we moved deeper into the ruins. A small change, but a significant one. As we walked, I caught him glancing at me occasionally, his expression thoughtful, unreadable. Whatever he was considering, he kept to himself.
We moved forward cautiously, testing the floor ahead. The corridor seemed more stable here, the emergency lights flickering less violently. I took another step, shifting my weight?—
The floor beneath my feet gave way without warning, a sickening crumble of ancient stone and stressed metal.
My stomach lurched into my throat. A strangled cry escaped me as the solid ground vanished, replaced by empty, falling darkness.
"Rivera!" Varek lunged forward, his hand outstretched, golden eyes wide with alarm.
The floor vanished—and so did he. The bond stretched like wire in my chest, fraying as I dropped. It didn’t snap… but it screamed
Our fingers brushed for one fraction of a second, a spark of connection across the void, before I dropped into blackness, the sound of his shout swallowed by the roar of collapsing stone above.
VAREK
The floor beneath Rivera gave way without warning, a sickening crumble of ancient stone and stressed metal.
"Rivera!" I lunged forward, my hand outstretched, fingers brushing hers for a fraction of a second before she dropped into darkness.
A violent explosion of dust billowed upward, choking the air, blinding me momentarily. The floor continued to collapse in a chain reaction, forcing me to leap backward as tons of ancient stone crashed down, sealing the passage between us completely.
"Rivera!" I shouted again, my voice bouncing uselessly off the newly formed wall of debris.
The dust slowly settled. Silence fell, broken only by the occasional plink of water and the settling of smaller rocks. The connection I'd felt earlier—that strange, unwelcome bond—vanished completely, leaving an unexpected hollow ache in my chest where my lifelines burned brightest.
I pressed my palm against the rockfall, searching for any gap, any weakness. Nothing. The collapse had been total.
