Page 31 of Larz

“In my culture,” he continued hesitantly, “such connections between different peoples... they are not just forbidden; they are unheard of.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “On Earth... well, it used to be like that too—in some places more than others.” Myheart raced at our admission; it was like standing on the edge of an abyss with no way back.

“But here?” Larz asked as if he already knew, but needed confirmation all the same.

“Here...” I echoed his earlier sentiment with a sad smile. “Here is different.”

He nodded slowly, as if processing what this meant—for us, for our people. His hand found mine again; this time it wasn’t by accident but by choice—a silent pledge amidst uncertainty.

“We cannot predict what will come,” he said solemnly.

“No,” I replied just as gravely, while intertwining my fingers with his—a symbol of unity against division. “But whatever happens... we face it together.”

The moon cast its silver glow over us—two souls from worlds apart who found each other among starlight and shadows. In this quiet moment between heartbeats and breaths, we acknowledged not just the depth of our feelings but also their power—to heal or to harm.

Our gazes held until Larz finally broke away to look up at the sky where our two worlds hung suspended—one thriving and one lost forever—reminding us of all that stood between us and all that lay ahead.

He stood up first and offered me his hand; pulling me up beside him was like pulling me back into reality—a place where love might not be enough to bridge every chasm but where it was worth every risk just to try.

Larz stood before me, his silver eyes reflecting the moon’s soft glow, casting him in an ethereal light that made him look bothformidable and otherworldly. He had summoned me away from the makeshift infirmary under the pretense of needing help with a task only I could perform. The urgency in his voice, a low thrum that seemed to reverberate through the still night, had given me pause.

“We need to talk, Hailee,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, but it carried in the silence that enveloped us.

I nodded, waiting for him to continue. The way he avoided my gaze told me whatever he was about to reveal weighed heavily on him.

“It’s about the faction—those among my people who cannot accept your presence here.” His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, betraying a tension I’d never seen in him before.

“What about them?” My heart pounded in my chest, fearing the answer.

“They’ve... they’ve planned more than just protests and harsh words. They’re orchestrating acts that could endanger everyone—human and Zorvian alike.”

I felt my stomach drop. “What acts?” The words came out as a choked whisper.

“Sabotage. On the habitats we’ve built for your people. On our own structures to stir chaos.” His eyes finally met mine, filled with an emotion I couldn’t quite name—guilt, fear, or maybe both.

“And you knew about this?” I struggled to keep my voice steady.

He hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly. “I did.”

I took a step back from him, feeling as if the ground beneath me had shifted. “And you didn’t think to tell us? To warn us?”

Larz’s gaze didn’t waver even as I felt my own eyes sting with unshed tears of frustration and fear. “At first, I thought it was mere talk—fringe elements voicing anger without true intent. But when I learned of their concrete plans... I realized the gravity of their conviction.”

“And yet you said nothing until now?”

His voice broke slightly as he spoke. “I grappled with my duty to my people and what I knew was right. It was... it is difficult to stand against one’s own.”

A silence stretched between us, filled with the echo of his confession. Betrayal curdled inside me alongside an understanding that pained me just as much. Larz was not just a Zorvian warrior; he was someone who cared deeply about his people—enough to be torn between two impossible choices.

“I want to trust you, Larz,” I said finally, feeling the weight of our shared moments press against the fear that threatened to overwhelm me. “But how can I when you kept something like this from us?”

“I am telling you now because I believe we can stop them—together.” His hand reached out but stopped short of touching me, respecting the chasm that had opened up between us.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because they underestimate what we have—what you have brought here.” He took a step closer, but still kept his distance. “Hope.”

Hope—a fragile thing that felt so distant in the face of what he had revealed. And yet...

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