(Dyn)

  Dyn squinted into the darkness of the brig, but the light from the hallway fell short of the cells, leaving their oct little more than bars and shadows.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  The st time he’d seen his friend, Echo, was above deck, right before the captain barked at him for distrag the neointed meiow they’d locked her up like a criminal. Dyn dropped onto the bench by the door, his fists tightening as he simmered. Anyone who thought he was a distra to her now could fuck right off.

  “The repairs are done,” her voice said after a beat, drifting from the darkness. “The ship will be ready to leave by tomorrow.”

  “That’s great—” he said with a clipped tone. “But not what I asked.” She was defleg, but it told him enough.

  Silence hung heavily between them.

  Dyn leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands. He shut his eyes. “Sorry,” he said, softening his voice. “It’s been a long day.”

  He took a breath to calm down, only to gag at the reminder of how badly he needed a shower. “Also, sorry about the smell,” he added.

  “It’s okay, I ’t—” She stopped to prove herself wrong as Dyn heard her take a long sniff. “Other mprians ’t smell.”

  ‘Lucky,’ he thought. If he could, he’d give up his sense of smell and taste right now, too. It made sehough—mprians didn’t have ans, just bones held together by magic. He just hadn’t sidered it before, and now it got him w.

  “Does that mean you ’t see either?” He looked up from under his brows into the darkness.

  “Not with our—” She stopped, her hesitation lingering in the shadows. Dyn caught her meaning; she didn’t see herself as one of them anymore. “They don’t see with their eyes. They sense energy instead. It’s like seeing, but each creature gives off light, not just the sun. It’s… difficult to expin.”

  He pictured the heat-vision from the Predator movies, imagining mpriaing light in ways humans couldn’t. He had other questions he wao ask—so many—but they’d have to wait. The important ones had to e first.

  Dyn sat bad asked, “Why are you locked up?”

  “I asked them to,” she said, surprising him. Her trembling words stealing the fuel for his e. “It’s…” She paused, taking a shaky breath. “It’s easier this way. They don’t o watch me if I’m stuck here.” She broke into another sob. “It was awful… Being there, stuck with them. I could feel their thoughts, their… reje.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “They’re afraid of me.”

  His anger faltered, stumbling into the dark as her pain filled the room.

  “Do… Do you know what that feels like?” she asked.

  His chest tightened, his own awisting into sorrow. It took everything not to drown in the dark emotions welling inside him. “I think I do…” He sniffled, dragging his sleeve under his nose.

  He uood what she meant. While he got along with most, there were always a few—teachers, cssmates, co-workers—without the patieo deal with his ADHD. Their feelings—impatience, reje, disappoi—had been easy to pick up on. And it hurt. Every time.

  “Why were y?” he asked, his voice thick as he tried to mask his own tears.

  She let out another sob; the sound eg softly off the cell walls. “I’m afraid,” she whispered.

  Those two words nearly broke him. He’d been afraid for most of his life: afraid of not living up to expectations—not being good enough. But most of all, he was afraid of failing, which ofteo giving up before he even started.

  Since arriving on Mother ons, he’d discovered a whole new kind of fear. Being alone and afraid was a terrible existence. His heart ached for Echo, and he resolved to give her the patience she o expin her own fears. Sometimes, saying it out loud made it easier to uand—and uanding was the enemy of fear.

  “I don’t want to ge.”

  Dyn tilted his head, her words catg him off guard. “What do you mean?”

  He heard the shuffle of her feet, and then a hand reached into the light—a skeletal hand covered in slick, blue sinew and muscle.

  Dyn’s breath hitched as his eyes went wide and he froze. Before he could say a word, the hand jerked back, retreating into the darkness in shame.

  “I’m sorry,” Dyn blurted, leaning forward and reag toward the bars, a gesture too te. “I just… I didn’t expect—”

  “I know,” Echo said, her voice breakiween sobs. “It’s terrible.”

  Cursing himself for his rea, he stammered, “It just caught me off guard, is all. Trust me, I reacted a lot worse when I met my first mprian—”

  He snapped his mouth shut, wing. ‘Great job, Dyn. That’s definitely not helping,’ he thought.

  Echo said nothing, and her silence grew too heavy for him.

  “What’s happening to you?” he asked finally.

  “Nekralis,” Echo said. “This body is regeing.”

  Dyn opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. He didn’t want to appear callous again. “I don’t uand. Is that… a bad thing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “It’s not what my host would’ve wanted.”

  Dyn gave an introspective nod, remembering mprians had access to their host’s memories and life experiences. A sudden, sharp cramp tore through his gut, doubling him over with a strangled whimper. It felt like something was ripping him apart from the i owerful, and he feared they’d only get worse.

  Echo was quick to pick up on his distress, and she rushed to the bars, gripping them with her sinewy, still-f hands. “Are you alright?” she asked, sounding ed. “Wait. Something’s wrong—your energy. It’s… muted, dwindling.”

  “I’m fine,” Dyn groaned, f a shaky smile. “Just a bit hungry. Nothing to worry about.” He tried to py it cool, even as his hands shook. The st thing he wanted was to burden her. She had enough to deal with.

  “Me too,” she whispered through the bars.

  He looked up, but she’d already withdrawn into the shadows, just out of sight. “Aren’t they feeding you?” Distracted by his own huhe question just slipped out.

  ‘Do mpria?’ he wondered. He wasn’t sure how, or what, anyone could eat without a stomach.

  “Lamprians do, and talking about it just makes me more hungry, so I’d rather not,” she said.

  He strongly agreed as he adjusted himself on the unfortable bench, thinking of aopiy topic. “What’s going to happen to you whe back?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Eurmured. “I don’t have ao go. Maybe…” Her voice faltered, the unspoken thought hanging in the air.

  Dyn reized it instantly, the shadow of an intrusive thought. He exhaled sharply, hesitating. Did he want to pull at this string?

  “Maybe… what?” he asked.

  “Maybe I should do what they’ve been telling me… Crystalis myself.”

  “ you do that? Just choose to enter crystalis?”

  “No.”

  His face flushed as anger fred again. If he uood correctly, crystalis was their version of a a—temporary or not. “Wait, they told you to hurt yourself?”

  Dyn shot to his feet, his blood boiling. He ched and unched his fists as he started pag, his boots scuffing against the floor. “What kind of asshole orders you to off one of your own and then tells you to off yourself?!"

  “I volunt—”

  “No!” Dyn spun toward her, pointing at the cell bars. “You don’t get to do that. Their bme isn’t yours to take.”

  “They’re just trying to protect everyone!” She tered, raising her small voice.

  “From what?” He stormed up to the bars. He was vihat “everyone” didn’t include her.

  “From me!”

  Her shout echoed through the brig as she stepped into the light. She towered over him now, a grotesque mixture of glistening blue sinew and half-formed muscles stretg across her seven-foot drai frame. But Dyn barely blinked. All he saw was Echo, the smallest mprian—his friend.

  He ed his o meet her still hollow eyes, shaking his head. “I don’t uand. How are you a dao me?” He jabbed a fi his ow. “You’ve been nothing but nice.”

  “Because…” She turned her skull away, her shoulders slumping in shame. “I’m hungry.”

  Dyn scoffed. “Well, if that’s all it takes to loeone up, move over. I’m ing in, because I am actually starving,” he said, the truth slipping out before he could catch it.

  “How bad is it?” he asked, keeping the focus on her.

  “Nothing pared to what A’lyce went through,” she said quietly. “But it’s always on my mind.”

  Dyn turned and leaned his back against the bars, his eyes slipping shut. A loaf of fk floated through his thoughts—stale and salty, mog his empty stomach. Hunger was easier to ignore when he was busy, like when he’d been adventuring with his team.

  ‘That’s it,’ he thought. Maybe there was another path for her. Something beyond being an airship meic.

  “Hey,” he asked over his shoulder, “ mprians bee adventurers?”

  “Yes,” she said hesitantly, “but I shouldn’t. It’s too dangerous.”

  She shifted, leaning her back against the bars as well.

  “What are you supposed to do with the rest of your life?” Dyn frowugging at the waistband of his pants. ‘Down another inch,’ he thought. He’d have to add another notch to his belt.

  “That sounds like torture,” he added with a chuckle. Her shrug sent a faint movement through the bars, her thin muscles brushing against him.

  “I don’t know,” she said over her shoulder. “Until now, I had the ship to keep me busy. That helped. But now the work’s done, and I’ve nothing else to do.”

  “You could bee an adventurer and help people. It’d give you something to focus on,” Dyn said, trying thten her mood. “It’s not like you’d ever run out of people to help.”

  Echo was quiet for a moment before replying softly, “I’ll think about it.”

  She hadn’t ht dismissed him, and that was enough to give him hope. He exhaled, grinning.

  “And I’ll help any way I .”

  He heard the faint smile in her voice as she said, “I believe you.”

  His stomach grumbled again, loud enough to break the moment and prompt his question. “And you’re one hundred pert sure we leave tomorrow?”

  “As long as you take care of that arc beetle. The Everafter will make sure you get home,” she said fidently, taking pride in her work.

  That was exactly what he o hear. Dyn grinned again, leaning his head back against the bars. “If you weren’t behind those bars, I could kiss yht now.”

  “I… don’t know about that,” she said, sounding embarrassed. “But I’m gd that it makes you happy.”

  Dyn didn’t want to leave her alone, but Echo insisted she was fine and told him to go eat.

  By the time he marched back to his , his legs were trembling, the first signs of colpse. He threw the door open, grabbed the loaf of fk, and shoved the door shut behind him. The kraft paper tore under his fingers as he uned it. There was a tremor in his hand as he brought it to his mouth.

  The fvor profile hadn’t ged, stale and overly salty, but he didn’t care. He stuffed his mouth full, chewing greedily. When he swallowed the first bite, he let out an audible moan, relief washing over him as his stomach finally held something other than acid, air, and diste.

  “Dyn?” Eury’s voice came from the other side of his door.

  ‘Shit.’ He froze, fk halfway to his mouth again.

  “Sorry, I was just… uh.” He floundered, scrambling for an excuse. No way was he about to expin his dietary issues. “Enjoying…”—‘don’t say fk, anything but fk’—“myself.”

  “Oh,” she said, her voice jumping an octave.

  ‘Goddamnit Dyn,’ he winced. ‘Now she thinks you’re a pervert.’ Which, holy, was only slightly better than enjoying fk.

  “Suess I’ll… uh, leave you to it then.”

  He heard her footsteps retreating down the hallway, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing quickly. He sighed, shaking his head.

  “Maybe she’ll fet,” he said to his fk. But the ache in his stomach wouldn’t wait. He shoved another bite into his mouth, stifling another involuntary moan.

  “Dyn?” W’itney’s voice rang out from the hallway.

  ‘’t a man just eat in peace?’ he thought, chewing furiously as he grunted a reply.

  After a moment of silence, W’itney called out, “You… need a hand in there? I could go see if Eury’s free?”

  “I’m good,” he mumbled through a mouthful of fk, his breathiness betraying him.

  The sound of W’itepping closer sent a spike of dread through him. Their voice dropped to just above a whisper. “It’s only natural to have increased… feelings after a near-death experience. I don’t mind helping, if that’s more your speed.”

  ‘Jesus, they’re absolutely shameless,’ he thought, resisting the urge to throw the loaf at the door.

  “Nope!” he shouted. “I’ve got it!”

  Drai still scared him, and he didn’t see himself getting past that. But then the memory of Ni’ot standing close and hot o him flickered in his mind, uninvited. A stirring followed. Dyn gred down at his pants. “Do you mind?” he muttered to himself. “I’m trying to have a meal here, man.”

  He sighed and managed a bite without moaning—finally. Then came another knock.

  “Dyn?”

  He took a deep breath, rolled his eyes, and yahe door open. “No, I’m not thinking about muscle mommies or princesses. I am not toug myself and no, I don’t need a hand. I’m just trying to eat this salty loaf of bread in peace!” He thrust the half-eaten fk into the air for emphasis.

  Hay’len stood frozen, their expression an awkward mix of surprise, fusion, a. “Sorry,” they winced. “I just wao let you know the shower’s open.” Hooking their thumb toward the washroom, they turned and walked away, muttering, “Muscle mommy?”

  “Fuck my life,” Dyn said, tearing another hunk from the loaf. At least tonight, he’d go to bed and on a full stomach. That alone brought a peaind he desperately needed.

  He finished his meal and sat in the hammock, gently rog bad forth. The simple rhythm, paired with the satisfa of a full belly, brought a rare sense of calm. For the first time in days, his pain was gohe fk was w, undoing the effealnutrition faster than he’d hoped.

  As the brain fog lifted, he flexed his hand into a fist, testing the strength he could feel returning. Finally, he could think clearly agai out a slow breath, sav the moment.

  After a few minutes, he hopped down and made his way to the showers, his mood dipping slightly when he heard the water running. Someone had beaten him to it.

  Not wanting to lose his p line, he settled onto the empty ben the washroom. The steamy air ed around him, softening the edges of his thoughts. Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes for just a moment, letting the warmth seep into his muscles.