When a seemingly lifeless boy is saved by a girl.
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Ma'vona was once a beloved member of the Kame'tire clan, known for their profound understanding of Pandora's flora and unparalleled healing skills. Their expertise was so great that they could heal...
♪ A New Star by Simon Franglen ♪ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Silence
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The silence outside the hatch was suffocating, an oppressive stillness that felt more like the calm before a storm than an opening to freedom. Every second dragged on, each moment amplifying the tension coiled tightly in my chest. Something wasn’t right. The quiet didn’t promise safety—it screamed of a trap.
I glanced at Neteyam crouched beside me, his features set in steely concentration as he peered through the narrow gap in the door. His sharp eyes scanned the dimly lit hallway, searching for any sign of movement.
“It might be time,” Neteyam murmured, his voice low and edged with tension. “We have to go. It’s now or never.”
I tightened my grip on Txä’vo’s frail form, shaking my head. “No, Neteyam. It’s too quiet. What if they’re just waiting for us to step out, ready to spring a trap?”
Neteyam exhaled sharply, frustration flashing across his face. “Then we wait, and we plan our next move. But I need to check. If it’s clear, I’ll give you a signal—a call. Then you two can come out.”
I hesitated, my gaze dropping to Txä’vo. His body trembled with exhaustion, barely able to hold himself up. If we stepped out too soon, it could all be over in an instant. But I trusted Neteyam. He’d know if it was safe.
With a reluctant nod, I whispered, “Fine. But be careful.”
Neteyam returned my nod, his expression firm and resolute. “I will. Stay here and don’t move unless I call you.”
He checked his rifle one last time before turning to the hatch. Slowly, he eased it open, the grating sound of metal scraping metal unnaturally loud in the silence. My heart pounded as I watched him slip through the small gap, his movements deliberate and soundless.
I held my breath, straining to hear anything beyond the door. Each of Neteyam’s cautious footsteps echoed faintly, the stillness outside thick and unnerving, as though the entire space was holding its breath alongside me.
Then it came—a soft, sharp whistle, clear and unmistakable.
Neteyam’s signal.
I didn’t hesitate. Gently, I helped Txä’vo out first, his weakened steps shaky but determined. As we stepped into the hallway, the silence pressed down even harder, amplifying every soft scuff of our movements. It felt surreal, as though the quiet itself was watching us.
Neteyam moved ahead, his sharp gaze sweeping every shadow, his rifle poised and ready. I stayed close to Txä’vo, supporting him as we moved, every nerve in my body on edge. My mind raced, cycling through every possible trap Mercer might have laid for us.
