Page 6 of Alien Hunter's Prize

"How are they used?" Jen asked.

"Brewed in hot water for tea to sharpen focus," Shyla explained. "Or crushed and inhaled for immediate, brief clarity."

Jen nodded, committing it to memory.

"One more thing," Shyla added. "Kozlan said follow the 'shell-stone path' on the western ridge. Their hidden route, marked with fossils embedded in stone. Only those who know would find it."

Valuable information. "Spiral shells, ancient water creatures. Small, often partially embedded. They appear regularly."

She paused at the door. "The human's resonance... is unexpected. But perhaps not unwelcome. The Quiet Ones might find it significant." She departed, leaving us with the heaviness of the mission.

I resumed packing, aware of Jen, her focus on her collection of salvaged wires and recording devices. Would they be an asset or liability facing these "dissonant whispers"?

My thoughts circled back to Rylis's warning in the Council Hall.Forbidden ground.The weight of our history, the cultural trauma of technology turned destructive, settled heavily. The tip of my tail tapped a slow, unconscious rhythm against my thigh as I considered the ancient failures.

My fear wasn't the mountain itself, but repeating our ancestors' arrogance, unleashing forces we couldn't control, shattering minds again. Jen, with her focus on patterns and technology, walked dangerously close to that edge.

"You've spent a lot of time in the mountains," Jen observed, breaking the silence as she secured her pack.

"Yes. It is where I feel most aligned with Arenix," I admitted. "The settlements are necessary, but the true voice speaks clearest in wilderness."

She tilted her head. "That's why you're skeptical of my sound analysis. You believe patterns should be felt, not measured."

Her perception surprised me. "Not entirely. Measurement has its place. But divorced from experience, from context... it risks misinterpretation."

"And you think I'm misinterpreting?"

I chose honesty. "Your perception is unique. Valid. But Arenix has rhythms recordings can't capture alone. Sensed through time, seasons, observation."

She nodded thoughtfully. "That's fair. But my sensory processing isn't just technology, Iros. It's integrated. Personal. The markings don't just record—theyfeelpatterns."

Despite my caution, this intrigued me. "These patterns you visualize—consistent? Reproducible?"

"Yes," she said with certainty. "Same call, same visual. Different calls, different patterns. Disruptions follow specific interference patterns overlaying base structures."

Specificity suggested more than random interpretation.

We worked silently. My mind mapped the route, considered hazards.

"The resonance crystal," Jen said. "Operates on a frequency similar to Shardwing calls, but refined. If Aerie Kin use these to communicate..."

"You believe your recordings contain elements of this resonance," I finished her thought. "And distortions represent interference from the failing ancient technology."

"Yes." Surprise flickered across her features. "Exactly. If something at the Echoing Caves generates disruptive energy patterns interfering with the natural resonance..."

"It would explain both their erratic behavior and the Aerie Kin's crisis," I conceded. Her theory had merit, framework aside.

"We should bring my recording equipment," she said, indicating a small, dented device.

"Pack it," I agreed. "But survival gear takes priority. Technology won't matter if we don't reach them alive."

She nodded, making space while keeping essential supplies. A working compromise.

"Have you been this far west before?" she asked.

"Not to Aerie territories. Patrolled borderlands, outer ridges. High passes are considered forbidden."

"Because of the failed Great Division?"

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