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Her lashes fluttered, still heavy with sleep, but her mouth curved into that small, wicked line I knew too well even half-conscious. "...'m not a star," she mumbled, her voice thick and slurred. "'m a person. With a name. You know it."

My whole body went rigid. "You are dreaming."

"Mm. Maybe." Her eyes were already sliding shut again, her breathing evening back out before I could decide whether to be relieved or terrified. "You said somethin' though."

"You are hearing things, Ly-ra," I said, my voice far steadier than the frantic drum of my Pulse. "Sleep."

She didn't argue further—already gone, dragged back under by exhaustion, a faint, satisfied smile still ghosting her lips as if she'd won something. I stood over her for a long moment, my claws curling into my palms.

Fool, I told myself. Careless fool.

But some small, traitorous part of me hoped she'd remember it in the morning, if only so I wouldn't have to be the one to say it first.

"I cannot be near you tomorrow," I whispered into the silent room, my voice a broken snarl of frustration.

If I stayed by her side during the festival, if I smelled her arousal amidst the chanting and the heat of the Tribe, I would lose the last shred of my sanity. I would break every law of my people in front of the Elders and the suns just to have her.

I stepped out into the night, the cold air doing nothing to douse the fire. Tomorrow, I would lead the hunt. I would perform the rites. But I would stay as far from the star-woman as the village would allow—because if I touched her during the Alignment, I would never let her go.

Chapter 40

Lyra

The dream was silver and cold, draped in a heavy, suffocating silence.

I stood in a clearing that defied the forest’s geography, a place where the trees were made of white bone and the sky was a swirling vortex of starlight. The faceless, ethereal entities I had seen once before in the fever-dreams of my first nights here surrounded me. Their forms were woven from what looked like glowing white nervous systems—thousands of luminous, branching filaments pulsed with a frantic, electric life. They were ancient, their presence heavy, circling me in a slow rotation.

They weren't screaming this time. They were chanting. The language was a low, guttural hum that vibrated in my very marrow, a series of melodic clicks and vowels that felt like the pulse of the planet itself. They closed in, their forms blurring, and I felt a strange sense of warning rather than malice.

Suddenly, the circle snapped to a halt. One of them surged forward, its filaments flared like a solar corona, its voice echoing inside my skull with the resonance of a tolling bell.

"The Great Shadow stirs. The fire is still upon us. Set them free, or all shall burn. Complete the cord of the Mother... bind the gold to the light, or the Alignment shall be a funeral pyre."

I jolted awake, a gasp catching in my throat as my heart thundered against my ribs. The glowing filaments of the dream evaporated, replaced by the warm, green-tinted light of the hut. My skin was damp with sweat. Set them free? Bind the gold? I had no idea what the "cord of the Mother" was.

"Finally! I was beginning to think we’d have to carry you to the stream and douse you," Sora’s voice chirped, breaking the heavy silence of my mind.

I blinked, squinting against the dappled light as Sora and Mara moved around the small space. They were a whirlwind of activity, shifting baskets and jars with a festive energy. Sora looked like she was vibrating, her red skin glowing with a healthy sheen. Even Mara looked at me with something approaching respect.

"Get up, Lyra," Sora commanded, gesturing toward the silver-grass basket. "The suns are reaching their zenith. It is time for you to open the gift."

I sat up, rubbing my eyes, and crawled toward the basket. My fingers hovered over the embroidered cloth, trembling slightly. I pulled it out slowly, the material feeling impossibly light. It was a two-piece outfit made of the softest black and silver fur, accented with charcoal-dark leathers. Intricate, living, emerald-green vines were woven into the seams, tightening slightly at my touch.

The top was narrow and daring, but the skirt was the centrepiece—long and flowing, yet featuring a high, dramatic slit that ran all the way up, designed to show off every detail of the vine-work and the leather beneath.

"Sora..." I whispered, running my thumb over the fur. "This is... I’ve never seen anything like this."

"Most of the Clan aided in creating this for you," Sora said, her tail swishing with pride. "It is a thank-you, Lyra. For the hunters you saved, and for the way you have sought to understand us. Some may still reject the change you bring, but the Tribe does not forget a debt of blood."

Mara stepped forward and guided me to my feet. "Stand still, human. The vines must be awakened to your heat."

They began to dress me, their hands moving with practised efficiency. The vines were the most fascinating part; as they wrapped around my waist and my forearms, they seemed to react to the warmth of my skin, tightening just enough to hold the leather and fur in place without being restrictive. It felt like a second skin—living, breathing, and incredibly empowering.

"Thank you," I said, looking from Sora to Mara, my voice thick with a sudden lump in my throat. "Both of you. For everything. I know I haven't been the easiest person to have around. I know I’ve been... a lot."

"You are stubborn," Mara noted, her hands steady as she adjusted the leather. "And you are loud. You do not know your place. It is a trait we respect in a warrior."

I let out a dry, nervous laugh. "I’m not a warrior, Mara. On my world, I’m just... a scientist. I just fix things when I can."