Page 21 of Bonded to the Star-Beast

The debate rages. They argue over interpretations of laws written before their ancestors settled in this valley. They discuss the heart-bond as if it's a mythical beast, something from a story told to frighten children. Some see it as sacred, a sign of destiny. Others see it as a dangerous weakness, a contamination of their pure lineage.

And I stand here, the focal point of it all, unable to follow the nuances of their debate. My translator buzzes, catching fragments, pieces of a puzzle I can't solve.Aberration. Omen. Strength. Contamination. Loyalty. Betrayal.

They are debating my right to exist, my impact on their future. My scientific mind wants to scream.This is not superstition! It is a quantifiable biological event! There are physiological markers, neurochemical reactions. This can be studied, understood!But my words are useless here. My science is a foreign language in a world governed by tradition and instinct.

Then, the chamber falls silent. Chief Torq, who has listened without expression, raises his head. His gaze, heavy with the weight of decades, settles on me. He lifts a single, powerful hand and gestures for me to step forward.

My legs feel like lead. The two guards behind me give me a slight, almost imperceptible nudge. I walk to the center of the chamber, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I stop a few paces from Jaro, but he doesn't look at me. He stares straight ahead at his father, his face a mask of iron control.

“You,” the Chief's voice booms, the single word echoing in the stone chamber. My translator renders it cleanly. “The alien female. You may speak.”

This is it. My one chance. What can I say? How can I defend myself in a language of symbols and guttural sounds I barely understand? How do I explain who I am, what I am, to a people who see me as a curse or an omen?

I take a deep breath, forcing my voice to remain steady, my posture calm.Project confidence, Kendra. Data is on your side, even if they don't know it.

“My name is Dr. Kendra Miles,” I begin, my voice clearer than I expected. My translator renders the sounds, though I cannot know how they hear them. “I am a scientist. A xenobotanist. My mission was one of peaceful research.”

I try to explain the malfunction of my ship, the crash, my solitary struggle for survival. I try to convey that I mean no harm, that my presence here is an accident of physics and failed technology, not a malicious invasion. I speak of my desire to understand their world, not to conquer or change it.

My words feel small, inadequate in this vast, ancient chamber. They are lost in the chasm of cultural and linguistic difference. I see it in their faces-the blank incomprehension, the deep-seated suspicion. My calm demeanor, my analytical gaze, seems to impress a few of the more pragmatic-looking elders, a stark contrast to Vex's emotional, fiery rhetoric. But it's not enough.

When I finish, the silence is thick and heavy. I have presented my case, laid out my data. But the verdict will not be based on logic. It will be based on fear, tradition, and the tangled web of their tribal politics.

Then Jaro speaks.

He doesn't look at me, but I feel his words are for me as much as for the council.

“She is not a curse,” he says, his voice a low, powerful rumble that commands attention. “She is a survivor. I have seen her courage. I have seen her intelligence. She faced the predators of our forest alone and fought them with fire and with a mind that sees things we do not.”

He turns his head slightly, and his amber eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second. The look is full of a fierce, possessive pride that makes my breath catch.

“You see an alien,” he continues, turning back to the council. “I see a warrior in a different form. Her knowledge of this world's plants could be a greater weapon than any spear. Her resilience is a match for any Xylosian. To call her a weakness is to be blind to the true nature of strength.”

He takes a step forward, his presence filling the chamber. “The heart-bond is not a contamination. It is a fusion. It has made my senses sharper, my instincts stronger. It has shown me that our tribe's future may depend on more than just brute force and ancient laws. It may depend on our ability to adapt, to see strength in what is different.”

He consciously keeps the full truth of our connection to himself. He doesn't mention the shared dreams, the empathic link. He knows they would see it as a sign of his mind being compromised, his will subsumed by mine. He is playing their game, using their language, fighting for me on their terms.

The council is silent, a sea of unreadable faces. Vex looks furious, his argument blunted by Jaro's unexpected defense. The elders murmur amongst themselves, their gazes shifting between Jaro, me, and the ancient texts.

Finally, Chief Torq rises.

The chamber holds its collective breath.

“The council is divided,” he announces, his voice echoing with finality. “The laws are old, their meanings debated. The heart-bond is a power we no longer fully understand.”

He looks at Jaro, a complex mix of fatherly pride and chieftain's duty in his eyes. Then he looks at me, and his gaze is like being weighed and measured on a cosmic scale.

“A temporary ruling is declared,” he says. “The female, Kendra Miles, will remain in Vara-Ka. She will be under the protection of Jaro, and under the observation of this council.”

A murmur of dissent comes from Vex's supporters, but the Chief silences it with a single, sharp glare.

“We will consult the deeper lore. We will observe the development of this bond. We will see if it brings strength, as Jaro claims, or weakness, as Vex fears.” He pauses, his gaze sweeping the chamber. “When the triple moons next align, the council will reconvene. At that time, a final judgment will be made.”

He strikes the stone floor with the butt of a ceremonial spear, and the sound is a gavel, ending the hearing. The council members begin to disperse, their whispers filling the air.

Jaro walks to my side, his hand hovering near my back but not touching. The guards who escorted me here fall in behind us.

The hearing is over, but the trial has just begun.

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