Page 5 of Alien Guardian's Vow
Another tremor rippled through the earth, stronger here, dust puffing from the cracks in the ground. A warning. Whatever instability plagued the ruins, her presence, hermarkings, would only worsen it.
I followed her tracks to the entrance, noting how they disappeared into the shadows within. The damaged doorway emitted a faint silver-blue light, pulsing in an irregular rhythm that sent sharp pains through my lifelines. If she triggered a catastrophe, the settlement would suffer. Our people. Her people. All because one human couldn't resist her damnable curiosity.
I unsheathed my blade, its familiar weight centering me despite the rising anger and the painful thrumming in my chest. The Elders had ordered me topreventhuman interference. I was already too late for prevention.
Now I would have to contain the damage. Remove her before she caused irreparable harm.
I stepped through the entrance, the energy field washing over me like ice water. My lifelines flared in protest, pain spiking along my spine, but I pushed forward, following the only path Rivera could have taken.
Into the heart of the ruins. Into the legacy of our ancestors' destruction.
RIVERA
The handheld light cut a weak, wavering path through darkness thick as tar. Ancient dust motes, disturbed for the first time in gods knew how many centuries, swirled in the beam like phantom insects. The air tasted metallic, sharp against my tongue, heavy with the scent of ozone and decay.
"Just a quick look," I muttered to myself, the words swallowed instantly by the oppressive silence of the ruins. The only sounds were my own footsteps crunching softly on gritty dust, the rhythmicdrip... drip... dripof water echoing from somewhere deeper within, and the low, intermittent groans of the structure itself settling around me.
I swept the light across crumbling walls, revealing faded geometric patterns etched into what might once have been polished stone. The corridor stretched ahead, narrowing slightly as it descended deeper into the earth. Exposed conduits, thick as my arm, hung from the ceiling like technological vines, occasionally spitting weak blue-white sparks that illuminated the space in brief, harsh flashes.
My boots vibrated slightly with each step. Not a sound—a physical sensation, as if the entire structure hummed with failing energy systems, a discordant note felt deep in my bones.
I paused, running my fingers along one clammy wall. The stone felt cold, almost greasy with age and damp. My silver markings responded immediately, pulsing with a faint warmth beneath my shirt, sending information directly into my consciousness. Not images exactly—more likeknowingsomething without seeing it.Ancient. Powerful. Broken.The assessment arrived fully formed, unsettling in its certainty.
A drop of cold water struck my cheek. I looked up, catching another on my forehead. The ceiling wept in a dozen places, water finding its way through microscopic cracks in what should have been nigh-impenetrable material. "Nothing lasts forever," I whispered, stepping carefully over a section of collapsed flooring, the beam of my light swallowed by the darkness below the gap.
My markings pulsed faster, their faint silver light creating strange, dancing shadows on the walls as I moved deeper. The sensation grew more intense—not painful yet, but a constant, low-level thrumming, feeding me fragmented warnings:structural weakness ahead... energy cascade potential... failing containment fields...It was like trying to read a dozen corrupted sensor feeds simultaneously.
I pressed forward, ignoring the unease crawling up my spine. This place felt fundamentallywrongin a way I couldn't articulate. Not haunted—I didn't believe in ghosts—but unstable at its core, like walking across thin ice when you hear the first ominous crack echoing from below.
A low groan echoed through the corridor, longer and deeper this time, the sound of ancient materials under impossible stress. I froze, holding my breath until it subsided, my heart hammering against my ribs.
This is why Mirelle sent me,I reminded myself, forcing down the rising fear. The settlement needed to know if these ruins posed a real threat. The tremors had been getting worse, more frequent. If something down here was building toward catastrophic failure, we needed warning.
I reached out, tracing a finger along a damaged, sparking conduit. My markings flared in response, feeding me more fragments—power regulation systems... atmospheric processors... containment fields...All failing. All dangerous. My engineer's mind cataloged the problems automatically, analyzing failure modes and potential solutions even as another part of me marveled at the sheer scale and complexity. Whoever built this place had technological capabilities far beyond anything in recorded human history. What could have possibly happened to them?
The corridor widened slightly into a junction. Three passages branched off, each identical to my untrained eye, disappearing into blackness. But my markings pulled me insistently toward the right-hand path, tugging like an impatient child.
I turned the light down that corridor. It looked no different from the others—more decay, more darkness. But the pull was undeniable. Curiosity, mingled with the strange compulsion from the markings, overwhelmed caution.Just a little further.I stepped forward.
The alcove appeared suddenly, a small recess in the corridor wall I might have missed entirely without my markings' insistent guidance. Inside, bathed in pulsing blue and amber light, stood a diagnostic panel. It flickered erratically, but it wasactive, illuminating the tiny space.
I stepped closer, my breath catching. The panel displayed streams of data—corrupted, fragmented symbols scrolling across its surface, energy level bars flickering deep in the red, atmospheric icons flashing warnings—but stillrunningafter all this time.
"Hello, beautiful," I whispered, moving closer, drawn by the irresistible lure of active, ancient technology.
My markings brightened in response, the silver light reflecting off the panel's surface. The strange symbols on the display seemed to shift, rearranging slightly, as if responding to my proximity.
Okay, easy does it.I remembered how my markings could sometimes interface passively with Nyxari tech, pulling basic data streams, sensing energy patterns and logic pathways without direct contact. It wasn't translation, more like feeling the machine's structure. With damaged systems like this, it was inconsistent, frustratingly static-filled, but maybe I could get enough... Just the core data. What system was failing? How fast? Was it contained?
This was different from the salvaged junk back at the settlement, though. This system was active. Damaged, yes, but still running complex operations throughout the ruins. The rational part of my brain screamed warnings—damaged, unpredictable, ancient, forbidden. But my engineer's instinct pushed back.Understanding is the first step to safety. I can't protect people from something I don't comprehend.
My markings pulsed faster, eagerly, almost painfully, resonating with the flickering panel. The symbols shifted again, rearranging into patterns that somehow felt logical, intuitive, despite their alien design.
"Just a passive scan," I told myself aloud, the words feeling thin in the heavy silence. "No active manipulation. Just looking. Done this dozens of times."
I raised my hand, fingers hovering centimeters from the panel's cool surface. My markings cast their silver light across the ancient controls, illuminating symbols that seemed to reach toward me, inviting connection.
"Just a quick look," I repeated, taking a shallow breath. "Then I'm out of here."
