A warm light stirred Mari from sleep. She lay tangled among a mismatched pile of bodies on the small island, its soil bound together by the gnarled roots of the all-season tree. For a moment she stayed still, listening to the quiet rhythm of breathing around her, letting the warmth settle into her bones.

  When she finally rose and stretched, the motion felt unhurried and easy, as if her body had decided on its own that rest had been sufficient. It took only a few steps to reach the edge of the island. Mari peered down and felt a faint disorientation as the jungle spread beneath her, familiar and distant all at once.

  Behind her, she could hear Jerro and Greg beginning to stir.

  Their ship lingered below, just where they had left it, resting in the clearing like a patient animal waiting to be tended. Scars from the battle still marked the surrounding ground, broken chitin and scorched foliage littered the jungle.

  Had this really been only a lune ago? Mari wondered.

  “Mari…”

  The voice came weakly from behind her.

  She turned at once. Prince Lukyaza sat slumped at the base of the tree, his once-commanding form reduced to something fragile and strained. Relief flared through her, quickly followed by concern as she crossed the island toward him, slowing as she drew near, unsure where to touch or whether touching would do more harm than good.

  “Lukyaza,” she said softly.

  Jerro was already moving, dropping to one knee beside the Prince. Greg followed, quieter than usual, his attention fixed on Lukyaza’s labored breathing.

  “I… I’m uncertain how you accomplished it,” Lukyaza said, his voice catching as he spoke. “But you have my eternal gratitude for resc—”

  His words broke apart in a fit of coughing that left his body trembling.

  “Water,” Jerro said urgently. Greg was already reaching into Jerro’s pack, pulling free the pitcher and passing it over. Jerro supported Lukyaza’s head as he took a careful sip, the effort clearly costing him more than it should have.

  The Prince lifted one trembling paw and reached toward Mari’s forehead. His claws brushed the faintly glowing emblem there.

  “That mark…” he murmured. “I have seen this befo—”

  Another coughing spasm cut him off, harsher than the last.

  “It’s alright,” Mari said gently, placing a paw on his shoulder. We can use our minds. Just send your message. You don’t need to strain yourself.

  There was no response. Only the sound of his breathing, shallow and uneven.

  When Lukyaza opened his eyes again, they drifted past Mari and settled on the furless figure lying nearby.

  “The human,” he said faintly, his head tilted and eyes locked on the tall, smooth-skinned figure. “You saved it as well?”

  “Human?” Greg echoed, glancing between the others.

  Mari nodded. “I guess so. We couldn’t just leave them there.”

  At that, Lukyaza’s gaze shifted to the small hyrax standing close to the human’s side. The creases in his brow wrinkled. He looked back at Mari. “You cannot bring them ba—”

  The sentence collapsed into a wheezing gasp. His breathing grew more labored, each inhale drawn out and thin. The friends spoke softly, reassuring him, though none of them knew whether their words reached him anymore.

  Lukyaza’s eyes closed, then opened once more. He looked at Mari, then at Jerro and Greg, and a small, tired smile crossed his face. A long breath left his chest.

  Stillness followed.

  Do not trust them.

  The words drifted through the mindspace, faint but unmistakable, and then faded.

  Mari’s vision blurred. Jerro placed a paw against Lukyaza’s chest. Greg rested his paw over Jerro’s, and after a moment Mari added hers to the small stack. They closed their eyes together, offering a silent farewell. This was the way of The Burrow. A quiet acknowledgment of a life that had reached its end.

  Mari looked up at her friends. “We burrow.”

  Greg and Jerro repeated it with her.

  Lukyaza’s body crumbled, breaking apart into a fine, pale dust that lifted gently into the air. The breeze carried it around the branches of the all-season tree before dispersing it into the warm morning haze.

  Across the island, the human stirred.

  The small hyrax beside them startled, hopping sideways with a soft, alarmed sound. She turned her pointed snout toward the human, eyes wide, one small fang catching the light as she watched for signs of danger.

  In unison, the three friends turned.

  Up close, the human was stranger than Mari had expected. Not a trace of fur covered its body. Their skin looked soft and vulnerable, wrapped in a single rough garment that covered their torso and upper legs. It seemed hastily made, likely fashioned by hyrax paws.

  “I feel like we’re supposed to do something,” Greg whispered. “I just don’t know what that is.”

  The human extended an arm, long fingers unfolding toward the hyrax. After a moment’s hesitation, she stepped closer and pressed herself into the offered hand, nuzzling against it with a familiarity that surprised Mari.

  Jerro exhaled slowly. “So are we trusting them, or was Lukyaza warning us about something else entirely?”

  I don’t know, Mari replied without speaking, watching the pair closely. This human. This is an Ancient. What I saw in the cave back in Long Valley. She made a small, open-palmed gesture toward them and let her posture soften.

  Careful Mari, Jerro sent along with an analytic glance.

  Mari crouched beside the hyrax. Its long, sausage-like body squirmed with nervous energy, movements sharp and uncontained. Mari lowered herself slowly and rested a paw against its side, careful not to startle it. The tension didn’t vanish, but it softened, the frantic motion resolving into smaller, uncertain shifts.

  “Squiggy?” she murmured, not as a question meant to be answered, but as something that felt right to offer.

  The hyrax tilted its head, then hopped forward, pressing into Mari’s fur and holding there. Mari smiled and let her paw settle more firmly against its back.

  “Seems fitting.” Greg glanced back at the human. “And what about this one, the human… The Ancient?”

  Jerro hesitated. “They remind me of something. Old rat lore. The Cult of the Bound One. They believed shedding fur brought them closer to power.”

  Mari waved that off. “That’s just a story.”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “After everything we’ve seen,” Jerro said, already moving closer to the human, “I’m not ruling anything out.”

  He placed a paw against his chest. “Jerro.” Then pointed to Mari. “Mari.” Then to Greg. “Greg.”

  The human watched him closely.

  “Jerro,” the human said slowly, placing their bare hand on his head. The word came out rough, but unmistakable.

  Jerro smiled broadly and turned back to the others. “It can learn.”

  He hesitated, then added, “I’m going to try something.”

  Jerro touched a paw to his temple and reached.

  The moment his awareness crossed the threshold, he felt it.

  Nothing.

  No structure. No surface thoughts. Just an open, dark expanse that stretched outward without edges. It made his chest tighten, but curiosity pulled him deeper. In the emptiness, something shifted. Patterns formed, subtle at first, then more defined. Curving ridges. Harmonic waveforms that reminded him of the anomalous frequency he had detected in the Glorp.

  They were beautiful. Hypnotic.

  Jerro felt himself drifting, spiraling inward, the sensation of falling slow and endless.

  “Jerro!”

  Paws grabbed him, shaking him hard enough to snap the world back into focus. He lay on the cool earth, gasping.

  “The pattern,” he murmured. “Where did it go?”

  He scrambled to his feet and stared at the human, flipping down his monocular in a reflexive motion. The device felt inadequate now, like a child’s toy.

  He tried to reach again—to recreate the sensation.

  Nothing answered.

  Mari stepped in front of him, her voice steady. “We need rest. Whatever that was, it’s not something we’re meant to solve right now.”

  Greg nodded. “We’re alive. That’s enough for today.”

  Jerro let out a slow breath and stepped back. The human watched him with open, unguarded eyes, no sign of intent or understanding, only quiet curiosity.

  The island had continued to descend while they spoke. By now it hovered only a few tails above the jungle floor, settling near the clearing where their ship waited.

  “Phlip?” Mari called suddenly.

  A moment later, Phlip bounded into view from the spring side of the island, his face stained green from fresh foliage, a bundle of grass still clutched in his mouth. Mari sighed, shaking her head as he trotted past.

  Together, they disembarked.

  The jungle was quiet as they crossed the clearing. Too quiet, Mari thought, though she couldn’t say why. The insect creatures they had fought earlier were gone, leaving only broken foliage and scorched ground behind. It felt as if the land itself was holding its breath.

  Jerro moved ahead instinctively, already slipping back into familiar roles. He assessed the ship’s damage with a quick circuit, muttering to himself as he went, then began assigning tasks with practiced ease. Mari took the cockpit with Phlip close at her side. Greg headed for the weapons systems. Jerro waved Squiggy and the human over, attempting to include them, giving them a simple collection task.

  In the end, their contribution amounted to a loosely organized pile of scrap that included hull fragments, firewood, smooth jungle stones, and several half-eaten pieces of fruit. Squiggy seemed pleased with the result. The human simply watched, occasionally handing her something she had already set down.

  Mari worked through the cockpit damage carefully, rewiring severed controls while Phlip assisted in his own way by offering her the wrong tools at exactly the wrong times. She thanked him anyway. Greg crawled through the weapons bay, checking the turret tracks and coaxing partial life back into the shielding.

  Jerro disappeared into the engine room.

  When the hamster reactor hummed back to life, the sound brought an unexpected tightness to his chest. Lunda’s presence returned with it, her attunement snapping into place, seamless and immediate.

  Jerro, it is a relief to be with you again. Lunda’s calming voice moved through his mind.

  He told her everything as they worked. About The Glorp. About The Citadel. About Prince Lukyaza. About the power they had touched and barely understood. Lunda listened with rapt focus, asking questions that revealed just how much she had missed while the connection had been severed. She knew nothing of The Glorp and noted that she would record his account in her database. That absence alone felt unsettling.

  Despite their progress, the propulsion system refused to respond. The control unit had taken the worst of the quantum pulsar surge during the initial skirmish. Jerro traced the failure twice before conceding what he already knew.

  They were not leaving under their own power.

  A shadow crossed the clearing without warning, darkening the entirety of the space.

  Mari noticed it first from the cockpit. She looked up just in time to see the sun eclipsed by the smooth silver curve of an enormous parabolic ship hovering low in the atmosphere. A sphere of crackling energy pulsed within the open interior of its frame, contained and deliberate.

  Guys, she sent. You need to see this.

  Jerro and Greg emerged onto the deck as Mari and Phlip joined them.

  “What is that?” Jerro asked quietly.

  “I don’t know,” Mari replied.

  A second vessel approached. Smaller, but sharing the same parabolic design, rotated ninety degrees to descend vertically. A pale white energy trace followed its controlled descent.

  Jerro shifted his stance. “We don’t have much left if this turns unfriendly.”

  Greg nodded. “Barely enough to make it loud.”

  The smaller ship settled near the site where Lukyaza had last stood. Three figures emerged from a portal beneath it, descending slowly as their cloaks rippled in the humid air. The same crest Lukyaza and his guardians had worn marked the hull. A braided circle framing a hollow triangle.

  Jerro’s ears lifted. “Borruki.”

  Greg leaned against the railing. “Hopefully, the helpful kind.”

  The central figure moved ahead of the others, taller, more assured. When it drew close, it lowered its hood, revealing features similar to Lukyaza’s, though aged and refined. The two flanking figures remained armored beneath their cloaks, silent and watchful.

  The Borruki leader spoke in the same warbled language Lukyaza had used. Mari shook her head. The figure reached into its cloak, withdrawing a translation unit and activated it with a practiced turn.

  “Greetings,” it said smoothly. “I am Inquisitor Tuyaza.”

  His gaze flicked briefly to Squiggy. Then to the human.

  Mari felt something tighten in her chest.

  “What are you doing here Inquisitor?” She asked sharper than she had intended.

  Jerro and Greg glanced at her, surprised by the shift in tone.

  “We are a recovery team,” Tuyaza replied evenly. “Searching for members of our order who failed to report in. Three, to be precise. Have you encountered any others of our kind recently?”

  “No,” Mari said at once.

  Jerro and Greg both looked at her.

  Lukyaza warned us, she sent. I don’t know who he meant, but until we do, we only trust each other.

  Tuyaza inclined his head slightly. “Then I must ask, who are you, and why are you in our system?”

  Jerro stepped forward. “We crashed here. Reactor is intact. Propulsion is not.”

  Tuyaza examined the damage with a practiced eye. “That aligns with what I see. I will mark your vessel as non-hostile to prevent further incident.”

  He dismissed the display with a casual motion and turned back toward his ship.

  Mari called out. “Wait… Can you help us repair it?”

  Tuyaza paused. Slowly, he turned back. “Certainly. We will transport you to our forward base where repairs can be completed.”

  I thought we weren’t trusting them. Jerro transmitted hesitantly.

  Mari exhaled quietly. We don’t have any other options.

  The larger ship maneuvered into position, tractor fields engaging. Their vessel lifted from the jungle floor as twilight crept across the sky faster than it should have.

  Hours later, Greg stirred the others. “I think we’re there.” Although completely spent, he had been unable to calm his mind and rest with the others. He held a long blue stick—one of the vectorization rakes Ferdi had issued them on Station. It seemed he had figured out how to use it. The fur along his spine was combed into neat grooves.

  Any trace of daylight had faded fully, and starlight dominated now. The moon wasn’t out yet, and a deep, quiet darkness permeated the jungle below, the kind that made shapes feel imagined until they moved. Above them, the sky was clean and sharp, scattered with stars that looked too bright for how little comfort they offered. Their ship drifted beneath the looming parabolic hull, suspended in its wake like a small thing being carried somewhere it hadn’t agreed to go. The air seemed thicker at night, heavy with humidity and sound, every distant call and snap arriving late and wrong. Even the glow from the Borruki craft felt cold, a controlled light that did not soften anything, only revealed how much more there was to hide.

  Ahead, elongated slivers of light formed a vast ring around a tower that stretched upward into orbit. Energy flowed rhythmically between the structures, cycling with methodical precision.

  The towing vessel veered away as the tower took control, drawing their ship toward its foundation. A translucent blue tube extended to meet their deck. The smaller crescent ship docked nearby, its own tube connecting in parallel.

  Inquisitor Tuyaza and his guardians were already descending.

  Squiggy moved closer to the human, pressing herself against their side. Mari noticed the way the human instinctively angled their body to shelter her, a quiet, unspoken agreement between them.

  Whatever evil had shaped the hyrax, Mari thought to herself, it had not claimed this one yet.

  They stepped into the tube as one. The light folded around them as the tower drew closer.