My lungs were burning, searing me to ashes from the inside out. The tendons in my legs had long since snapped, and my muscles had collapsed several miles back. I battled drifts of soft sand as they coerced my boots into protesting the next step with suckling insistence, and I defiantly flew against the hot breaths of wind bellowing at me to turn back. Submission was not an option. I had lost too much already.

A hazy blur materialized on the horizon just over the arcs of the swooping dunes. I was almost there. If not for the blazing white rays of sunlight in my eyes and the thick veil of heat blanketing the desert landscape, I would have been able to clearly see the clay walls marking the boundaries of Ka-lik’et, their peachy hue distinguishable against the backdrop of the vividly turquoise Albaterran sky. Another thousand footfalls would yield the low, ceaseless rumblings native to the Dhal’atian city as merchants bargained with interested buyers, friends and couples strolled the streets, and parents called out to energetic children determined to steal a moment of independence. Finally, the great golden dome marking the highest point of the Elder palace was birthed before me, glinting its encouragement for my return.

I slowed to a jog as I passed through the pair of gates. They were made of impenetrable bronze-brushed metal and towered well over two A’li-uud tall, their peaks meeting flush against the intricately-carved arch overhang. Had the afternoon given way to the dusty indigo dusk, I would have been required to request entrance from the stationed warrior guards, but the sun was still high in the sky and the gates were left open for civilians to come and go as they pleased. At this hour, Ka-lik’et was still buzzing, and my energetic reentry went unnoticed by all but one.

“Where have you been?” Through eyes that were little more than exhausted slits, I watched the lean, feral-faced A’li-uud charging toward me. Ribbons of pearly hair cascaded out behind him, the ends snapping like whips in the sweltering desert breeze, and the flared fabric of his breathable jodhpurs rippled with each stride. His skin had darkened from its usual royal blue richness to lush cobalt after spending most of the day out-of-doors. Slanted lids gave way to spectral irises, which plunged into me with visceral irritation and bolstered the jut of his angular jaw. He was fierce, striking, and identical to me in every way.

“Pleasure to see you too, Venan,” I remarked as casually as my heaving respirations would allow.

He refused to be deterred. “Where have you been?” he repeated, injecting insistence into his already rigid tone.

Venan was my twin brother, fellow warrior, and mirror image, but the similarities ended there. While he had thrown himself into his role with the Dhal’atian militia the first day he began training, I spent my initial years amassing a repertoire of warnings and disciplinary actions for reckless behavior. He was the epitome of humorless stringency; I preferred the livelier side of life. Our respective personalities led us down two very different and begrudgingly felicitous paths within the ranks, but time had blessed us with startling closeness.

“I needed to run,” I told him airily. “Catering to the humans all day does not a fit warrior make.”

“Our honorable Elder Kharid named you Interplanetary Affairs Officer for a reason, Zuran, and far be it from me to question him,” Venan sternly replied, the skepticism in his tone betraying his unspoken doubts of my appointment. “It is not your privilege to leave the colony at your whim.”

“And it is not your privilege to reprimand an officer of equal rank, brother,” I retorted.

He swelled, his unclothed torso expanding until the veins in his pectorals bulged. The harsh edges of his cheekbones hardened, and his shoulders squared with indignance. “Need I remind you your promotion was only upon my suggestion?” he challenged.

I pinned him with a patronizing gaze and asked, “What do you want, Venan?” I was still too tired to instigate further annoyance from him as I ordinarily would have.

“Elder Kharid has issued an order for your presence at the palace to address an urgent matter,” he said at once, managing to swell another breath larger.

“What is the urgent matter?”

Venan did not answer, opting instead to fix me with an exasperated glare for my lack of instant compliance. I shook out my wind-ruffled hair, which was just as long and pale as his, and started toward the palace. He caught me by the arm before I could take more than two steps.

“You must return to the colony first,” he asserted.

I held back a groan of frustration and decided I was owed a bit of antagonism for my efforts. “Is the matter not urgent after all? Was that a detail you invented to ensure I report to the palace and propel you deeper into Kharid’s good graces, perhaps?”

“Elder Kharid,” he corrected me snappishly. “And, no, I am not so childish as that. The Council has requested the inclusion of the human healers in the debriefing. It is your duty to collect them from their infirmary and accompany them to the palace.”

Several pieces of his explanation prickled my attention, and I became serious as I asked, “With what urgent matter could the human healers possibly assist, and why has the Council become involved?”

“You must report to Elder—”

“No, Venan,” I interrupted sharply. “I am not asking you as a warrior or an officer or even a Dhal’atian. I am asking you as a brother. What is happening? Why do I need to gather the humans?”

He eyed me uncertainly for a beat, his achromatic orbs flicking between mine. I knew he was struggling between his obligation to remain tight-lipped at Kharid’s command and his loyalty to our familial bond, but I was unwilling to retract my demand for information. Finally, his voice lowered to prevent overhearing by loitering eavesdroppers, he said, “An unidentified disease has broken out amongst the Novai. The Elders want every healer across Albaterra assigned to diagnosing and curing the illness before it spreads to both humans and A’li-uud. They fear the disease has the potential to grow to pandemic proportions and kill us all.”