"Scott?" she whispered, her voice raspy. "Is it... really over?"
Scott shifted, pulling her closer until her back was flush against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent.
"It's over," he promised. "You're already in our home on our bed."
Elara let out a breath she felt like she'd been holding for a lifetime. She rolled over in his arms to face him, wincing slightly as her muscles protested.
She looked down at herself. She was wearing one of Scott's oversized shirts, the fabric swallowing her small slim body.
She remembered the water. The cave. The intense, overwhelming heat that had consumed her.
A flush of shame shot up her neck.
"I..." She looked down, picking at the button of his shirt. "Last night... I wasn't myself. The poison... I said some embarrassing things... did things..."
"You did nothing wrong," Scott cut her off gently. He reached out, his large hand cupping her cheek, forcing her to look at him.
"You were drugged, baby. You were in pain and I did what I had to do to take it away."
Elara bit her lip, tears pricking her eyes. "I felt like an animal. I wanted it so bad... it was scary."
"Drug or no drug. You are my wife. There is no shame between us." Scott said simply. He ran his thumb over her lip.
He kissed her forehead, a lingering, soft touch that chased away the last shadows of the nightmare.
"And Varg?" Elara asked, her voice trembling at the name. "Is he...?"
Scott's expression shifted, his eyes grew cold, like chips of flint.
"Varg will never touch you again," Scott said. "He is paying for what he did. He is serving as a... warning. Out on the platform."
He didn't describe the Red-Vein Parasite. He didn't want that image in her head this morning.
He just tightened his hold on her.
"You don't need to worry about him. You don't need to worry about anything anymore. I'm back…."
Elara rested her hand on his chest, right over his heart.
"You're so strong now," she murmured, tracing the line of his pectoral muscle. "It feels like sleeping next to a bear."
Scott chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. "A bear, huh? I suppose that's better than a corpse."
He moved his hand down her back, resting it on her hip, his touch possessive but careful.
"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly.
Elara blushed, the memory of the last night flooding back… the water splashing, the feeling of being completely filled and claimed.
It hadn't just been the drug. She knew that.
"A little," she admitted, shifting her legs. "But... It's good now."
He then grabbed a pair of trousers from the chair, pulling them on.
"You take some rest for now," he commanded gently. "I'll have Aunt Jorunn bring you something to eat. Don't get up until you're ready."
He walked to the door, grabbing his spear that leaned against the wall. Before he left, he turned back one last time.
"Elara."
"Yes?"
"I love you."
Elara smiled, pulling the blankets up to her chin. For the first time in months, she truly believed everything was going to be alright.
"I love you too, Scott."
Scott nodded and opened the door, stepping out into the bright morning of the camp to face his people and his new reign.
Scott closed the heavy wooden door behind him, leaving the soft, emerald light of the bedroom for the bright morning sun of the main platform.
The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine resin and the distant, metallic tang of the Blood-Vein Parasite doing its slow work on Varg.
Leo was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, standing at attention. In his hands, he held a bundle wrapped in rough cloth.
"Brother," Leo said, bowing his head. "We stripped the traitor. These were on him."
As Scott descended the stairs, he took the bundle and unfolded it on the railing.
Inside lay things that are found in Varg's house, a jagged hunting knife with a bone handle, a small leather pouch containing a few glimmering Life Energy cores, and a strange, translucent map made of dried fungal skin.
Scott picked up the knife. It was crude compared to the weapons of the First Order, but the edge was razor-sharp. He tossed it back to Leo.
"Melt it down or give it to someone," Scott ordered. "I don't want his filth in my armory."
"And the map?" Leo asked.
Scott glanced at it. It depicted the area surrounding the Heartwood Tree, but there were red markings near the southern ridge, usually avoided due to high spore density.
"Keep it," Scott said, his eyes narrowing. "Varg was a mercenary. He didn't work alone. If he marked that spot, there's a reason."
He dismissed Leo with a wave of his hand. "Go. Double the guard on the lift. No one comes up without my permission."
"Yes!" Leo saluted and jogged away.
Alone on the balcony, Scott turned his back to the camp and looked out over the vast, green ocean of the forest canopy.
It was time to see the changes that occurred in his body.
Just then, the sound of heavy boots drumming against the wooden planks broke his concentration.
Scott turned to see his Aunt Jorunn marching towards him, her face a mixture of relief and intense confusion, but what caught Scott's eye were the men walking behind her.
Alistair and the two other spore men who had been on death's door together with him were now fully recovered and following her.
No, they weren't just walking, they were striding with a vigor that belonged to men half their age.
The deep, etched lines of exhaustion were gone from their faces.
Their postures were upright, their movements fluid and brimming with power.
Alistair, whose hair had been snow-white, now had streaks of steel-grey returning to his roots.
They looked at their own hands, flexed their arms, and exchanged bewildered glances, unable to comprehend the vitality surging through their veins.
The group stopped in front of Scott.
The guards and villagers nearby fell silent, sensing the gravity of the moment.
"Kid," Jorunn started, breathless not from exertion but from shock. She looked at Scott, then back at the rejuvenated Elders, then back to Scott.
"Quickly explain what happened there," she asked, her voice low and serious, trying to keep the conversation semi-private despite the crowd.
"We saw the light in the caves. The tree... it shuddered. And now they?"
Alistair stepped forward, his eyes wide with wonder.
Scott looked at them calmly. He knew this moment would come.
He couldn't hide the "Upgrader" forever, but he could dress it up in a way they would understand and revere.
"After being struck by the lightning," Scott began, choosing his words with calculated precision, making sure his voice carried enough authority to quell any doubt.
"I felt a change inside me." He paused for dramatic effect, looking at his own hand. "Although I don't know the exact limitations, I seem to have developed a special ability to strengthen myself and others."
He looked directly at Alistair.
"With this new... ability... I realized I could guide the energy of the Heartwood Tree not just to heal wounds, but to recover their lost lifespan."
"You also helped them?" Leo gasped, stepping forward, his eyes wide as saucers. "That's why the tree is shaking? You drew too much power?"
"I had to," Scott admitted, looking up at a large, yellowing leaf that drifted down between them from the canopy above. "The cost was high, but the Heartwood Tree provided what was needed."
Jorunn stared at him, her mouth slightly open. The suspicion in her eyes was warring with a dawning, terrifying realization.
"To manipulate Life Energy... to shape the biological state of others..." she whispered, the color draining from her face as the magnitude of it hit her. "Scott... Do you know what this means?"
Scott nodded slowly. "I've heard the legends."
"Spore men who are born with an innate ability, capable of shaping genes and ecosystems. Those who can command the very essence of the spores."
"Innate Spore Man," Leo breathed the words like a prayer.
What followed his words was an absolute, heavy silence.