Page 1 of Alien Hunter's Prize

JEN

My head throbbed with the relentless hammer of sound. I lay on my narrow cot, each second bringing a new wave of noise crashing against my consciousness. The distant clang of the forge stabbed sharp red spikes behind my eyes.

The low vashkai hum vibrated through my bones like thick, oppressive gray fog. Rivera's tech equipment whined through the wall—a high-pitched drill boring into my skull that I visualized as thin, vibrating yellow lines.

And the voices—Nyxari voices everywhere, layered into confusing, discordant streams of meaning, tangling like multicolored threads.

I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to stem the tide. The makeshift sound-dampening panels I'd fastened to the walls offered minimal relief. I'd thought understanding would help. I was wrong.

Three days since Rivera's procedure. Three days since the neural language headset she'd cobbled together from the Ashden Diadem touched my skull with its brief cool pressure, and then the flood—that sudden, overwhelming influx ofmeaninglayered onto the noise. Words where there were once just sounds. Comprehension where there was only chaos.

But the noise hurt worse now, not better. Understanding the words didn't make them hurt less.

I forced myself to sit up and swung my legs over the edge of the cot. My eyes fell on Rivera's workbench across the room, cluttered with basic audio recording equipment—a salvaged player, microphone, data pad. My translator stone sat there, small and useless. I wouldn't need that anymore.

"Filter," I muttered to the empty room. "Need to filter... it's still too loud, even if I understand it now."

I crossed to the workbench, leaving the translator stone behind. A symbolic gesture.It wouldn't help with this anyway.The procedure was supposed to be the solution, but it had only changed the nature of my problem.

My fingers found the playback controls of the battered audio device. I needed focus, something to cut through the chaos.

I tapped the cracked screen, and the recording began—the Shardwing calls I'd been collecting.

And there it was. A pattern emerged, smooth like water flowing over stones. Not jagged like the settlement noise.

The calls rose and fell in a structured cadence, forming flowing blue spirals and interlocking shapes in my mind. My skin tingled beneath the silver tracery, a soothing sensation, not the painful static reaction they had to ambient noise.

"There it is again," I whispered. "That sequence. Smooth... like cool water. What are you trying to say? Why doesn't thishurt?"

It was the only complex sound that didn't feel like an assault. Everything else—human voices, Nyxari conversations, machinery, even the wind—crashed against my senses in painful, chaotic waves. But these calls... they were different. Structured. Harmonious.

The isolation crushed me. I was trapped inside my own senses, a translator who could finally understand the words but was still deafened by their delivery.

I played the recording again, focusing on the pattern, letting it wash over me. There was meaning here. Information. Something important happening with the Shardwings, something I needed to understand. If I could just?—

A singular, piercing frequency cut through everything else. The settlement alarm.

The alarm sound hurt but focused me, a clear signal that overrode the usual noise. I winced but found myself moving toward the door. Something was happening. The alarm wouldn't sound unless there was a threat or an emergency.

Outside, the sensory assault intensified. The forge's clang grew louder, the vashkai hum stronger, and now there were running footsteps, shouted instructions, the commotion of bodies in motion. I pressed my hands against my ears, but it did little to help. The noise was inside my head now, comprehensible but overwhelming.

I followed the flow of movement toward the main gate. Curiosity pushed me forward despite the pain. Dust hung in the air from the ongoing rebuilding efforts, carrying the scent of ozone and Nyxari cooking fires. The smells nearly overwhelmed me as much as the sounds.

At the gate, a crowd had gathered. I pushed my way forward, ignoring the sharp looks from those I brushed past. Then I saw what had caused the alarm—a figure had collapsed just inside the entrance. A Nyxari, but different somehow. Smaller, perhaps, with clothing I didn't recognize.

Lazrin and Mirelle arrived, Kavan and Selene close behind. I watched as they knelt beside the fallen figure. The stranger's breathing labored, his emerald skin pale and dull. Blood seepedfrom multiple wounds, including what looked like a compound fracture in one limb. He'd been through something terrible.

"Aerie..." the stranger gasped, the word barely audible even to my enhanced hearing. "Shardwings... mountain groans..."

My heart quickened.Shardwings. The calls I'd been analyzing—theyweredistress signals. This confirmed it. I wasn't imagining things.

"He's Aerie Kin," Lazrin said, stepping back in surprise. "They really exist."

Kavan's hands moved efficiently over the injured Nyxari. "Whatever he is, he's a patient now. Exhaustion, severe dehydration, compound fracture... he needs immediate attention."

I stared at the messenger, noting the differences—his clothing was rougher, made of materials I didn't recognize, and his lifelines seemed fainter, following slightly different patterns than the Eastern Settlement Nyxari.

The crowd shifted, and I noticed another Nyxari standing slightly apart from the others.

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