The team sat aboard The Ghost of Mandachor, descending towards a planet designated AE-2045 within the few astronomical charts that actually listed it. It didn’t exist on most maps—it drifted in perfect balance between two stars in the Halvane system. Tucked into a Lagrange point where their gravitational forces canceled each other out, it was camouflaged by the light of brighter bodies. The perfect place to hide something of importance.
Like The Cradle.
Soren didn't answer Tamiyo's question, glancing instead at Aurania and letting his silence answer for him.
“Tell us,” Tamiyo insisted.
“I'm not sure how relevant it is,” Soren deflected. “We should stay focused on the mission.”
Veolo chimed in: “If it was something related to that Enderfield guy in any way, then it's related to the mission.” She was glaring at him.
The whole team watched. Violet, adorned in leather and gunmetal. Amalia, wearing sunshine as always. Inelius was calm and quiet.
Soren looked at Aurania again, longer this time, and nodded to her. She had seen it too, of course.
He relived it once more as Aurania told them all what she had seen.
“We fight for the freedom to make our own choices,” the woman said. “Live our own lives, use technology for the advancement of people—not some corporate overlords.”
Black hair, piercing eyes, the fiercest personality of any person he had ever met. Soren watched her, conflicted. She had disarmed him so easily. Again.
“Why haven't you killed me yet?” he asked her.
“I'm starting to think I should,” she said. “Truth is, you just got lucky the first time. I shot your weapon when I meant to hit your face.”
It had taken him weeks to heal from the shrapnel wounds.
“The second time,” she continued, “I recognized you. Watched. Saw how you cared for the people, regardless of what side they are on.”
“War is a special kind of hell,” Soren told her.
“Wrong.” Her voice was absolute. “War is war, and hell is hell. Of the two, war is worse.”
“Is this some kind of riddle?” he glared up at her from where she had knocked him to the ground.
“If you truly believe hell exists as taught by your masters, then only the evil end up there. But look.”
She gestured around her at the carnage—the two of them standing in a burning city of death and destruction. “Between war and hell, only one of them catches children in the crossfire. Only one of them makes the innocent suffer.”
He had wanted to look away—ashamed. But something about her held his gaze tight. Those eyes bored into him like a drill—and she locked him in place, even through the space between them.
“Look at me!” she screamed, fire in her eyes. “Tell me what you see!” She advanced toward him.
“I—” Soren hesitated, he didn’t know what she wanted him to say. “I see a terrorist. A cultist.”
But he knew it was a lie.
“The one known as Lulu—follower of the madman, Tywin Enderfield.”
Lulu closed the distance and grabbed him by his armored vest, hauling him to his feet. The hot barrel of her handgun pressed to his temple and he winced in pain.
“You see before you someone who fights for the people she loves,” Lulu screamed in his face. “For the people to the left and right of me. What do you fight for?!”
“The same thing!” Soren yelled back.
“No! You fight for corrupt overlords—look at you!” She shoved him back, but he managed to stay standing.
Lulu lowered her weapon. “You don’t even believe your own bullshit anymore. Yet here you stand, trying to keep fighting like some obedient dog of your military.”
“I joined her that day,” Soren told the team. The friends he had come to care for, during the most important months of his life—8,000 years later.
“Do you think you made the right choice?” Inelius asked.
Soren was quiet for a moment, then answered, “Seeing the Conservatory? The evolution of what I served turned into? Yeah, I’d say I made the right choice.”
He gazed at the floor silently. He didn’t want to seem like he was brooding, didn’t like how heavy the mood seemed. He liked when they were all happy.
Soren looked at Aurania with a smile. “You must have felt like you were looking in a mirror.”
Aurania scoffed. “Please, she was so pale.”
“Hey!” Violet, Veolo, and Tamiyo all yelled out at her together.
Violet squealed, “We can’t all be bronze goddesses, Aura! You and Amalia are just naturally tan.”
Then she flung her wide-brimmed hat at her sister—who just giggled, put the hat on, and stuck her tongue out.
Everyone laughed warmly.
On the wall panel, AE-2045 shimmered faintly beneath a veil of high-altitude mist, the atmospheric distortion casting mirage-like flickers across the continents as if the planet itself were just waking from a long sleep. The skies around them weren’t empty—Liberty Union gunships and support cruisers drifted through the upper stratosphere like sharks circling a carcass, engines burning with steady white-blue light.
As Raine dropped them through the atmosphere, the planet’s surface came into view.
What looked like cracks in the surface resolved into vast, angular ravines—unnatural in shape, like someone had drawn lines across the crust and folded the planet open from the inside. Faint networks of hexagonal plating could be seen embedded across the terrain, glinting like circuit paths, connecting distant towers that weren’t supposed to be there—silent and waiting. Lightning storms danced silently over one hemisphere, flickering against thick clouds laced with glowing particulate matter—dust that shimmered unnaturally and never quite settled.
Raine brought the Ghost of Mandachor down in a slow, careful glide, the landing struts hissing as they touched down on the fractured surface. Dust kicked up around them—fine, pale ash that drifted and swirled, shimmering like frost in the sunlight.
The surface was strange up close—dry white crust—but not barren. Raine had to land in an opening of trees, the leaves glistening with something…
Ethereal.
The team disembarked down the ramp. The planet’s air was breathable but unnerving—still and sterile, carrying no scent or breeze.
They moved cautiously across the terrain, weapons slung low but ready. Soren led the group forward, Veolo at his side like a mirrored shadow. They had all trained together for so long now that their tactical movements came like second nature.
The main structure loomed in the near distance: a monolithic ruin half-sunken into a ravine, its outer hull a seamless alloy that drank in the light instead of reflecting it.
“This place doesn’t look abandoned,” Inelius muttered. “Just... dormant.”
“Same thing I was thinking,” Tamiyo replied from the center of the formation.
Amalia crouched near a broken crate nestled into a nearby crevice. “There were people here. Look.” She held up a ration wrapper, half-crumpled and sealed in a newer-style polymer.
“Pirates?” Violet asked, stepping in beside her.
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“Or scavengers,” Veolo said, sniffing the air. “Someone camped here recently. The fire pit’s still warm.”
Aurania knelt beside it, frowning. “They left in a hurry.”
Soren followed her gaze. The footprints in the dust weren’t old. Several scattered away from the ruin at odd angles—toward higher ground.
“They saw us land,” he said. “Or saw the Liberty Union ships circling above and didn’t wait to find out which one of us was coming.”
“They’re probably still around somewhere nearby,” Veolo said.
“Yeah,” Soren agreed. “They didn’t go far. Not if they thought they could come back and loot once we cleared out.”
Aurania rose slowly, eyes narrowing toward the ridge to the east.
“Then let them watch,” she said. “Keep eyes and ears open. Let’s move.”
They advanced toward the main structure, descending into the shallow ravine that cradled its base. The terrain shifted beneath their feet—each step crunching on crust that cracked like old paint. Glowing threads of circuitry ran beneath some of the fractured plates, pulsing faintly at the team’s approach.
Soren raised a fist to signal a halt.
Movement.
Five figures emerged from behind a partially collapsed tower—pirates or scavengers by the look of them, each clad in mismatched armor and tattered cloaks. None raised their weapons. They weren’t stupid.
“Don’t shoot,” one of them called, lifting both hands. “We don’t want trouble.”
Veolo and Amalia had rifles already trained, but Soren kept his hand low, watching the group carefully.
“You were camping nearby, right?” Soren asked. “What are you doing here?”
One of the scavengers—a stocky lazarco with a limp—stepped forward. “Trying to figure a way in. Thought there might be tech worth salvaging.”
“And?”
“Nothing worked,” the lazarco shrugged. “No door we can open. No power. Just locked tight like the rest of this graveyard. Lights flickered once, but that’s it.”
“We didn’t stick around long after that,” another added. “The animals here… they’re not natural.”
“What do you mean?” Tamiyo asked.
“Everything on this rock’s wrong,” said a wiry woman with a bandaged arm. “We lost two of our crew two nights ago. Something in the mist. Had eyes—glowing. Real quiet. Real fast.”
Soren’s jaw tightened. “Did you see where it went?”
“No. Just... shadows, then screams. Blood in the trees next morning.”
Inelius stepped forward. “You said the lights flickered once?”
“Yeah,” the lazarco nodded. “Last night. Looked like the surface plates lit up in sequence, like a pattern. Thought it was seismic at first, but it was too... clean.”
“And then?” Aurania pressed.
“Nothing since. Not even the wind.”
Soren watched them for a long moment, analyzing them with more than just his eyes. “Where is your ship?”
“About a kilometer south of here,” the lazarco said.
Soren turned to the team. “They're telling the truth.”
“Of course they are,” Aurania said. “They're not suicidal.”
“What do you want to do with them?” Soren asked her.
Aurania stepped forward, carefully looking at each scavenger.
“Liberty Union reinforcements will be landing soon to cover our rear,” she told them. “You may want to be gone when they get here.”
The scavengers didn’t argue. The limp-laden lazarco nodded, motioned to his crew, and within moments they vanished back up the ridge.
Veolo lowered her rifle. “Anyone else want to fight whatever attacked them?” She sounded a little too excited.
“Don’t relax yet,” Soren muttered. “If there’s animals somehow imbued—or infected—with Aether Dust, I don’t even want to think how hard they might be to kill.”
“You’re not scared, are you?” Aurania cooed at him. It was irregular for her to speak with such a playful tone on a mission.
Soren cocked an eyebrow at her, then glanced at the axe in her hand. “Let’s hope you’ve learned to hit harder than you tried with me.”
He turned to face the ruin again with a grin.
The door was massive, but there didn’t appear to be any way to open it. No console to access, no panels to access wiring from outside, even scanning it revealed little readings.
But as Soren stepped closer to the structure, the alloy walls suddenly pulsed with energy—and then lashed out. A shockwave of force erupted from the monolith, slamming him back several feet. Dust billowed from the ground as he hit the crust hard.
“Soren!” Tamiyo started forward, but he was already scrambling to his feet.
“I’m fine,” he muttered, brushing ash from his arms. “That was definitely an Aether Dust reaction.”
“Didn’t seem very welcoming,” Veolo said, rifle up.
The monolith remained still for a few seconds longer—until a vertical seam appeared. With a slow hiss, the surface split inward to reveal a corridor lit with soft, pulsating light.
“Looks like it changed its mind,” Aurania muttered.
They stepped inside.
The walls were impossibly smooth, untouched by decay or weathering. As the team advanced down the corridor, the lights followed their steps in rippling waves of energy, like the entire complex was awakening after a long slumber.
But the lights weren’t smooth, they stuttered—some flickering rapidly, others remaining dark. It was like the entire system was trying to respond to them but couldn't decide how.
“This is insane,” Violet muttered. “It’s like the place knows him but is conflicted on if we’re friend or foe.”
“Feels like walking through a spinal cord,” Inelius said, his gaze trailing the glowing hex patterns pulsing along the ceiling.
A low whine suddenly rose from the wall behind them, followed by a mechanical chirp. A seam in the ceiling irised open, and a small turret dropped into view—its barrel locking directly onto Soren.
Everyone froze.
“Don’t move,” Aurania said quietly.
The turret’s sensors flickered—scanning Soren up and down. Then, almost reluctantly, the barrel retracted. The turret powered down with a confused chirrup and sank back into the ceiling.
“What’s going on with this place?” Violet asked.
“It’s like it thinks I’m someone else,” Soren answered. “Or… was expecting someone…” He trailed off, seeing the concerned way Aurania was looking at him.
“What?”
“You’re glowing,” Aurania said.
“I am?” he didn’t feel the normal buzz or vibration that came with the Aether Dust surging through him.
“It’s faint,” Aurania told him. “But yeah.”
Soren glanced down for a moment, then back to her eyes. “It’s fine. The Professor—Tywin—he was obsessed with Aether Dust. This whole place probably runs on it. I think we’re just… reacting to each other.”
Aurania didn’t look convinced, but she let it go.
Amalia grinned close by. “You glow. Your house glows. Pick a new trick dude.”
He playfully pushed her face away. “Shut up. It’s not my house.”
As they moved deeper into the structure, the lights intensified—matching Soren’s proximity and pulse. Each step seemed to draw out more warmth from the floor and walls, the entire facility syncing with him like a system recognizing its operator.
And then came the first flicker.
It wasn’t a vision—at least, not like before. It was a sensation.
Like he’d been here once.
A memory not his own brushed against the edge of his mind: Lulu’s laugh bouncing off the metal halls, and the Professor’s voice echoing as he spoke quickly to himself.
He stumbled for a second, hand bracing against the wall. The structure wasn’t just responding to him—his body was responding back.
“You should go back,” Violet told him.
“No,” Soren answered firmly. He stood again. “I’m okay.”
There were no signs of comfort inside.
No chairs, no signage, no console kiosks. The corridor branched at sharp angles, each hallway the same pale metallic tone, etched with glowing threads that pulsed and flowed like veins. Everything was sterile, built for function—if it was built for anyone at all.
“He sure knew how to make things… homey,” Inelius said.
“Yeah,” Tamiyo agreed. “It’s like this place wasn’t meant to have visitors.”
“It wasn’t,” Soren confirmed. “The Professor… he wasn’t exactly social. Most of his facilities were built big, but for the function of his experiments, not to house others.”
“So what’s this place then?” Violet asked, nudging open a side door and aiming Morgan’s Mercy everywhere her eyes went. The room beyond was a data vault—rows of hexagonal pillars stretching floor to ceiling, all inactive.
“I think… this is where he lived,” Soren said. “Or at least… where he worked long-term. If he ever had a home base, this is probably it.”
He looked into the vault, then peered around their surroundings more. “There might be living quarters somewhere ahead,” Soren said, his voice low, thoughtful. “He didn’t see himself as a leader, but people treated him like one. Scientists, exiles, idealists. A lot of them followed his work obsessively. Some even called him a prophet.”
“Sounds like a cult,” Violet muttered.
“Because it was,” Soren said bluntly. “They believed he was creating a future where biology and energy could merge—where Aether Dust could be understood, controlled, even…”
He trailed off, looking at his hand. “...infused into living things. They weren’t bad people though. For the most part.”
Veolo looked at him sidelong, then blew a puff of air to move a long strand of her silver hair out of her face. “You seriously never came here?”
“No,” Soren shook his head. “I knew he had multiple facilities scattered across different worlds. I traveled to some of them, but nowhere near all. I suspected there was a central hub, something more personal, but he never said where.”
Amalia trailed a hand along one glowing wall. “It’s kind of sad, isn’t it? This place is incredible, but also... empty.”
“Empty doesn’t mean unimportant,” Tamiyo said. “He chose a planet hidden between two stars for a reason.”
They kept moving, descending deeper through curving passageways and wide halls that opened like petals of a steel flower. Soren’s presence continued to draw more light from the walls, as though the complex were recognizing him—not just as an intruder, but as something familiar. The deeper they went, the stronger the connection became.
At one intersection, the glow shifted from blue to gold.
“Whoa,” Violet breathed. “That’s new.”
“This place keeps responding to you,” Inelius said.
“No,” Soren corrected. “Not me specifically. Just the Aether Dust in me.”
They followed the golden glow.
Down deeper corridors, across a bridge of narrow crystal-paneled flooring, through a towering vault that echoed even their breath. The light here pulsed slower, more deliberate—less reactive, more... aware. Every step Soren took made the air hum louder. It wasn’t just the walls responding anymore. It was the whole structure holding its breath.
The passage opened into a cavernous chamber—circular, smooth, its curved walls ribbed with power conduits and fiber optics that shimmered like veins of liquid sunlight. In the center stood something massive.
A ship.
Not a ruin. Not a derelict.
It stood like a beast at rest—sleek, angular, matte silver with razor-edged contours. Broad wings folded back along its body like armor plates. It looked both human in design, and undeniably alien—ancient and advanced at the same time.
It dwarfed them all. The others came to a stop without speaking, steps echoing faintly on the hangar floor as their heads tilted up. The only sound was the low whine of distant energy cycling somewhere unseen.
Soren stepped forward—drawn without thinking.
And as he did, the ship stirred.
Lights flickered to life beneath its hull, tracing long lines across the floor and up along the vessel’s skin like a nervous system awakening. A soft pulse echoed through the chamber, not sound exactly, but a tremor in his bones.
The front of the ship shifted, a hatch sliding open and a ramp descending. The light that spilled out was the same hue that faintly glowed within Soren himself.
For several moments, no one managed to speak, the words all catching in their throats.
Finally, Tamiyo whispered, “What the hell is this thing?”
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