We reach a large door, which opens automatically as Rythar approaches. Inside, the air is bright with cinnamon and the smell of fresh citrus fruit.
I tell Drenz to bring me the equipment I need to work with. I’ll use Xytheos tech to analyze, then use simple materials to create the antivenom. Rythar has been walking remarkably well so far, but I’m not sure how bad off he truly is.
I step through with Rythar, and the doors close, sealing us.
He sinks onto a huge bed.
Rythar breathes hard, every exhale a punch against the quiet. The venomisstill affecting him. His skin glows dark burnished copper in the light, but a fever sheen mists it over, and I can see the pulse in his temple beating fast. Sweating, muscles straining with the pain, he stares straight ahead. We’re alone until Drenz returns with supplies.
“You should have learned the rules of Xytheos,” he finally says. His voice is like sandpaper. “You should not have lied. You should not have run.”
I don’t flinch, but my body tenses so fast my hands shake. “I crash-landed on this planet. I never meant to come here. I’m loyal to my friends. To New Terra.”
He grits his teeth, chest heaving.
I want to hate him. Instead, I feel guilty. And I shouldn’t feel guilty for trying to help Sophia. To stay true to humanity.
He reads my expression, sees my guilt.
“Drenz did not expect your lies. He did not think you would leave the chamber. He reported at once.”
I process that. “He told you I escaped.”
“Yes.” The word is loaded. “He will not be fooled again. But he is loyalto me.”
The wordsto meland between us like a challenge.
Exhaustion is creeping in. I sit beside Rythar, keeping the medkit between us. “So what now? You going to chain me up? Lock me in?”
He looks down, then up, his eyes hot. “No. You are a fire only I may touch. If I hold you, I will be burned. If I do not hold you, you will burn everything. Even yourself.”
“You’d rather die than let me be hurt.”
He grunts. “Yes.”
Rythar reaches for my wrist. His hand is feverish, and I jump.
“You are not weak,” he says. He traces the line of my pulse, then lets go.
The door hisses and a trio of Rythar’s warriors steps in, pushing a large cart loaded with Xytheos medical equipment. Drenz follows them in.
The tools are gorgeously high-tech. Most are nothing I’ve ever seen. One tray holds a bank of nanobot syringes, the tips so fine they could pierce a single cell.
“Which of these will kill someone who's been bitten by a serpent-panther?” I ask Drenz, wary of the earlier warning.
Drenz flashes a look at the others. “None,” he answers. “We brought only basic medicine. No advanced healing. Nothing here will speed up the venom. Or cure it.” The others leave, but Drenz remains.
I nod and set to work. I scan Rythar’s vitals, muttering under my breath, letting the numbers anchor me. His heart is pounding at a rate I’d call lethal in a human. His body temperature is 42°C and rising. I’m not sure how bad that is. He was hotter than human even before this. The venom is wrecking his blood chemistry, but it’s slowed by the antivenom I gave him. It’s buying time.
I pull up deeper diagnostics because the numbers are outside any human baseline I know. My frame of reference is human. Rythar isn’t.
The numbers keep correcting themselves.
His heart rate spikes, then stabilizes before I can intervene. Blood oxygen levels dip, then rebound without supplemental support. His temperature should be catastrophic. Human proteins start to denature well before this. But his cellular readouts don't reflect a death spiral. They reflect adaptation.
That’s when it hits me.
I’m not treating organ failure. I’m watching an engineered system reroute. The serpent-panther venom isn’t just slightly different from rat venom. It’s deadlier. How is he still alive?
