Page 1 of Alien Warlord's Fury
CLAIRE
Istared at the wooden table, tracing the grain with my fingertip while the council droned on. Every minute spent here was another minute those children suffered. My leg bounced under the table, a nervous habit I couldn't control.
It had been months since Rivera’s clever adaptation of the ancient translation tech had integrated our languages, removing the need for the clunky translator stones. But council meetings still dragged interminably.
"The Eastern Settlement cannot commit warriors without proper reconnaissance," Elder Veylan said, his weathered face pinched, his voice tight with more than just concern. "We must ensure our approach is sound, yes, but every moment feels like an eternity when our younglings are in danger. Reconnaissance must be swift, thorough."
"We've been ensuring for weeks," I snapped, ignoring the sharp looks from around the table. "Every day we wait is another day Hammond has to—" My voice caught. The memories threatened—cold metal tables, needles, the burning...
I forced them down. I only survived because Rivera and Varek reached me. If they hadn't...
Nirako's hand settled on my arm, a silent warning. Heat flashed beneath my sleeve, shocking and intoxicating all at once. For the space of a breath I forgot the council entirely, aware only of the steady strength in his fingers and the reckless comfort it gave me. His touch sent a jolt through me, a brief flicker beneath my skin before I forced it down.
"Claire speaks from personal experience," he said, his voice measured in that infuriating way, though I caught the slightest tremor in his usually still tail. "But rushing in without preparation would endanger not only our warriors but the very younglings we seek to rescue."
I yanked my arm away, unable to bear his touch when he was arguing for delay. How could he be so calm? So detached?
Even so, the ghost of his touch lingered, tingling along my skin like an unspoken dare. I hated that my pulse quickened for the very man testing my resolve.
The council members nodded in agreement with him. Of course they did. Nirako was one of them—disciplined, methodical, patient.
Everything I wasn't.
Varek spoke then, his usual scowl firmly in place, though his gaze flickered with something akin to worry when he mentioned the ruins. "Our scouts confirm Hammond occupies the Serpent's Tooth ruins—a location notoriously unstable but rumored to hold functioning pre-Division technology he's undoubtedly exploiting."
Rivera leaned forward, adding her technical assessment, her own markings pulsing faintly. "The energy readings Iros provided confirm it. They show patterns consistent with reactivated ancient systems, likely supplemented by scavenged Seraphyne tech Hammond secured before his last defeat, given his intimate knowledge of the wreckage fields."
"Whatever he's cobbled together, it's potent and dangerously unstable."
Varek nodded curtly, accepting her input. "He's also gathered desperate survivors to his banner, bolstering his forces. His resources are unknown, but significant."
"An assault requires careful planning and coordination with the Aerie and Shadow Canyon clans, who are sending warriors but have not yet arrived. Rushing in unprepared risks failure and greater loss."
"But we don’t have time for perfect planning!" I tried again, desperate to make them understand. "The children?—"
"Weallfeel the urgency, Claire!" Elder Shyla interrupted, her voice sharper than I’d ever heard it, her silver skin seeming to tighten over her ancient bones. Her own lifelines flared briefly before she visibly reigned them in. "Do not think our caution means indifference!"
"These areNyxari younglings—our future, so precious few—in that monster's hands!" Her voice trembled slightly with suppressed emotion. "But reckless action serves no one, least of all them! We gather our strength, coordinate with our allies, and strike when the path is clear."
"We will discuss the final assault parameters tomorrow at first light—no later."
The finality in her tone, the blend of fierce urgency and unwavering caution, silenced my next protest. The rest of her words faded as pain lanced through my skull. Not now.
Not another vision.
Cold. So cold. Metal against bare skin.
Nxyari children's voices crying out in the darkness.
I gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. The council chamber disappeared, replaced by sterile walls and the smell of antiseptic. Hammond's laboratory.
A child screamed. Not just any child—the young girl with copper hair I'd seen in previous visions. Strapped to a table, silver markings crawling across her skin like mine.
Her back arched in agony as Hammond adjusted something on a control panel.
"Fascinating," his voice echoed. "The younger subjects integrate the markings more completely, but the pain response is... problematic."
The girl's screams intensified. I felt it as if it were my own body—burning, tearing, like my veins were filled with acid. My markings flared in response, silver light blazing across my skin.
