From the shadowy recesses of a carved cloud-stone archway, Julian Sturm watched, his spotless white apron traded for a dun-colored cloak that blended with the granite. His eyes, usually crinkled in a vendor's friendly smile, were now flat and calculating. Below, the crew descended the winding stairs from Vesta's apartment, a knot of outsiders in the simmering heart of Aleria.
The air itself was thick with a low, buzzing anger, the collective breath of a hundred protestors whose feathers and woven cloud-textiles rustled like a restless aviary. The scent of spiced cloud-berry incense, usually comforting, now clashed with the sharp odor of unwashed bodies and heated emotion.
Just as Marya's group reached the base of the stairs, two figures broke from the fringe of the crowd, weaving through the discontent with practiced urgency. One was a young woman with unruly chestnut curls, her Alerian tunic embroidered with swirling, rainbow-hued threads. The other was a taller, slender Birkan woman, her silver hair stark against her deep indigo robes, a satchel of tools bouncing against her hip. Inanna Levan and Brisa Kaze.
"Vesta!" Inanna's voice cut through the grumbling, high with relief and anxiety.
Vesta, who had been nervously adjusting the strap of her magical guitar, Mikasi, spun around. Her face lit up, the worry melting away into pure, unadulterated joy. "Inanna! Brisa!" she exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet and waving both hands over her head like a signal flag. "Over here!"
The entire crew paused, their search mission momentarily halted as they watched the two locals sprint the last few steps, skidding to a halt before them, bent over and panting.
"You're… you're okay," Brisa managed between gasps, her sharp, intelligent eyes scanning Vesta for any sign of harm.
Vesta blinked, her head tilting in genuine confusion. "Of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?"
"We were supposed to meet up," Inanna explained, straightening up and brushing a stray curl from her face. Her eyes darted to the formidable forms of Atlas, Aokiji, and the others, and a faint blush crept into her cheeks. "When you didn't show… with all this happening…" She gestured vaguely at the restless crowd. "We thought the worst."
Atlas, his rust-red fur seeming to bristle with impatience, folded his muscular arms. "Friends of yours, songbird?"
Vesta beamed, looping an arm through Inanna's and pulling Brisa closer. "Yeah! They're the best! This is Inanna, she's gonna be a legendary guard scout one day, and this is Brisa, she knows, like, everything that's ever happened here. She's the head archivist!" She puffed out her chest with pride. "And guess what? They're going to take me to the Blue Sea!"
The look that passed between Inanna and Brisa was not one of shared excitement, but one of stunned concern. "Are you… sure?" Inanna asked, her voice suddenly small and shaken. "I mean, you always said you wanted to, but… the Blue Sea? It's so far."
"It's my dream!" Vesta declared, her violet eyes shining with an unwavering faith. "And it's finally happening!"
Galit's long neck swayed as he leaned down, his emerald eyes sharp. "We aren't going anywhere unless we find our companions and clear our names," he interjected, his voice a low, rapid-fire counterpoint to Vesta's exuberance.
"Oh! Right." Vesta's shoulders slumped for a second before perking back up. "But after!"
Brisa, who had been quietly examining the strange assembly of Blue Sea dwellers, finally spoke, her tone measured and soft. "You are the ones everyone is whispering about."
From his position leaning against a wall, Aokiji raised a single, thick brow. The simple gesture carried the weight of his former rank. "What are they whispering?"
Inanna shuffled her feet, becoming acutely interested in the seams of her tunic under his indirect gaze. "Um, well, it's just that… there are rumors saying that the Storm-Callers were working with Blue Sea Dwellers and that…" She trailed off, biting her lip.
Marya, who had been observing the exchange with a calm, stoic detachment, felt a flicker of annoyance. Distractions. Always distractions. "That what?" she pressed, her voice even but carrying an edge that made Inanna flinch.
Brisa took over, her scholar's composure reasserting itself, though her eyes held a deep unease. "That the prophecy is…" She swallowed hard, and as if on cue, the roar of the protestors swelled, a wave of sound that crashed against the stone spires. Brisa glanced over her shoulder, her gaze tracking the shifting, angry crowd. "We shouldn't talk here! It's not safe." She waved a hand, beckoning them. "Come with me. I know a place where we can speak without half the island listening."
As the group fell into step behind the archivist, Aokiji's casual glance swept over the square, his eyes briefly lingering on the shadowed archway where Julian Sturm stood. He said nothing, but the slight narrowing of his eyes indicated he had registered the movement, the presence that didn't belong.
Pressed deep into the stone, Julian watched them go, his friendly vendor's face now a mask of cold focus. He pulled a small transponder snail from his cloak, its shell a dull, non-descript brown. He cupped it close to his mouth, his whisper a venomous hiss lost in the crowd's din.
"The archivist is involved. She's taking them to a secure location. The Lunarian's friends are mobilizing. And… the musician is talking about the Blue Sea journey again." He paused, listening to the faint, tinny response from the snail. A grim smile touched his lips. "Understood. I'll continue to observe. Tell the Old Man of the Spires his audience is preparing for the next act."
---
The heavy click of the lock still seemed to vibrate in the cold air, a sound that had sealed them into silence and fear. Jannali was already working her wrists against the rough cords, the fibers scraping her skin raw, when the bolt screeched again.
The door swung inward, framing two new figures against the harsh Dial-light of the corridor. The first was a woman in a stark white nurse's uniform, her hands clean and her smile a practiced, gentle curve. Payton Samson. The second was a maid, her apron impossibly pristine, her expression one of weary duty. Tamya Freyr. The smell of strong antiseptic and starch trailed in with them, a weirdly sterile invasion of the damp cell.
"Right, what's this all about?" Jannali demanded, her voice rough. "Decided to offer us a cuppa and a biscuit?"
They didn't answer. Their eyes, calm and focused, slid right over Jannali and landed on Eliane. The little Lunarian shrank back against the wall, her silver hair a tangled mess.
"No… please," Eliane whispered.
In a movement that was both fluid and ruthless, Payton and Tamya moved in. They took Eliane by her arms, their grips firm, and hauled her to her feet.
"Let go of me!" Eliane cried out, her voice cracking with panic. She kicked out, her boots scuffing against the stone floor. "Jannali!"
"Hey! Get your bloody hands off her!" Jannali launched herself forward, but her bound hands threw off her balance. She stumbled, just as a third figure filled the doorway.
Shane Peláez, the dentist, moved with a quiet speed. He didn't strike her; he simply planted a hand in the center of her chest and shoved, sending her sprawling back onto the hard ground. The impact knocked the wind from her lungs.
"You bastard!" Jannali coughed, scrambling back up onto her knees as Shane stood over her, his gaze cool and assessing behind his spectacles. She was trapped, forced to listen as Eliane's screams—raw, terrified pleas for help—echoed down the hallway, growing fainter until they were swallowed by the maze of stone.
The room they dragged Eliane into was little better than the first, but it held a small table littered with combs, vials, and a folded garment. The door shut, muting the world outside. Eliane was sobbing, great heaving breaths that hitched in her chest. Her eyes were red and streaming.
"There, now, child. Breathe," Payton said, her voice a low, soothing hum. She pulled a clean cloth from a pocket and dabbed at Eliane's face, the gesture eerily maternal. "This agitation is unnecessary. You must be calm."
Tamya watched, her arms crossed over her spotless apron. "She is the prophesied one. Hysterics are unbefitting."
Eliane jerked her head away from Payton's cloth. "What are you going to do with me?" she gasped, her whole body trembling.
Payton smiled, a slow, deliberate stretching of her lips that didn't reach her eyes. She knelt, bringing herself to Eliane's eye level. "We are going to get you ready to meet everyone. Think of it as your grand debut. A celebration."
Tamya picked up the folded dress—a simple, white gown of cloud-woven fabric. She held it up for inspection. "We can clean you up, do your hair. Then you can get all dressed up. You'll be presented properly."
Eliane blinked, confusion cutting through her terror. She sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her bound hand. "But… I don't want to." Her voice was small. She took a tiny, shuffling step backward, toward the door. "I just want to go and…"
In a flash, Tamya's hand shot out, her fingers closing like a vice around Eliane's upper arm. The girl squeaked in pain, the sound sharp and helpless in the small room.
"You will do as you are told, child," Tamya said, her voice low and suddenly stripped of all false patience. It was the flat, uncompromising tone of someone used to scrubbing away messes, whether they be on floors or in plans. "Now, come with me."
The door to the cell felt a thousand miles away. Jannali could only listen to the silence now, a silence that was somehow worse than the screams, punctuated only by the frantic, thunderous beating of her own heart.
---
The Archive of Aquila was a cavern of silence, a labyrinth of soaring cloud-stone shelves stacked with scrolls and the soft, constant hum of active Tone Dials preserving centuries of whispered history. The air smelled of old paper, dry ink, and the faint, cool scent of the stone itself. Inanna held the heavy, carved door open, her face tight with nervous energy as the group filed past her.
Marya entered last, her boots making no sound on the thick, woven rug. Aokiji ambled in beside her, his hands buried in the pockets of his long coat.
"What do you make of our stalker?" Marya asked, her voice a low murmur that didn't carry beyond the two of them.
Aokiji's mouth quirked into a faint smirk. "You noticed."
Marya gave a slight, almost imperceptible shrug, her leather jacket creaking softly. "Wasn't like he was doing a good job hiding. Amateur."
"Mm. He appears to find us very interesting. Think he might be able to show us where our associates are at," Aokiji mused, his gaze drifting over the vast, silent library.
"Agreed," Marya said, her golden-ringed eyes scanning the shadows between the shelves. "Let's wait and see how things unfold."
Brisa led them through the hushed halls, past reading nooks carved directly into the walls, until she reached a secluded conference room. The door shut with a soft thud, muting the world outside. Galit was the first to speak, his long neck weaving slightly as he took in the room. "Okay. So what is it you have to tell us?"
Jelly, trying to find a perch, bounced onto the large central table, his gelatinous form wobbling violently and sending a ceramic penholder clattering to the floor. "Whoops! Crash time!"
Brisa flinched at the noise, taking a deep breath as she ran a hand over the spine of a heavy, leather-bound book she'd pulled from a shelf. Vesta gave her an encouraging smile. "You got this!"
Nodding, the archivist began, her voice initially hesitant. She spoke of the years after The Welcoming, of the cultural friction and the pockets of resentment that festered among some Birkan refugees. "The Storm-Callers organized from those who felt… overlooked. Who believed our people were being asked to shed too much of themselves to fit in here."
"Were they?" Galit asked, his rapid-fire mind already cross-referencing the data.
"NO!" Inanna burst out, then looked away, embarrassed by her own volume. "Well… I mean, not by all of us." She swallowed hard, twisting the embroidered hem of her tunic. "It's… complicated. The way things were done in Birka is different than here. Not everyone is open to change, or a difference in perspective, or… whatever." Her voice trailed off into a frustrated mumble.
Brisa continued, her confidence growing as she fell into the familiar rhythm of a historical account. "Those who were the most devout followers of Enel struggled the most. And they clung to a text… a prophecy." She opened the book, her fingers tracing the elegant script. "The Covenant of the Twin Moons." Running her finder across the page she traced the lines of the prophecy. She began to recite the verses, her voice taking on a solemn cadence as she detailed the cryptic lines about shaking chains, a falling city of gold, and a rekindled flame.
"When the gilded chains of the Red Line shake,
The Children of the Full Moon shall awaken.
From the sacred soil of the White-White Sea, a city of gold must fall,
So that from its ashes, the true Birka may rise at the call.
Only when the last flame of the Sun-Piercers is rekindled in the sky,
Will the path to Fairy Vearth be opened to those deemed worthy to fly.
The False Gods must be scoured by divine thunder,
To cleanse the world of a primordial blunder.
He who wears the drums of judgment and sees with the eyes of God,
Shall be the instrument of the great and final nod."
Atlas, who had been leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, let out a low growl. "This is great and all, a real fascinating story time, but what does this have to do with anything? How does this help us find our friends?" His nubby tail gave an impatient flick.
Brisa and Inanna shared a look of profound concern. Marya's jaw flexed, a single tic of impatience. "Out with it."
"There is a rumor going around," Brisa said, meeting their eyes one by one, "that the time of the prophecy is now."
"That's why the protests started!" Inanna added, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Everyone's on edge, waiting for a sign!"
Brisa nodded, closing the book with a soft thud. "And the Storm-Callers are claiming that a Lunarian from the Blue Sea has joined their cause."
A heavy silence fell over the room. Marya's crew all exchanged a single, unified glance. They didn't need to say her name.
Aokiji pushed himself off the wall he'd been leaning against, the movement fluid and deliberate. "And we are the only Blue Sea people who have just arrived."
Brisa and Inanna both gave solemn nods.
"Do you know where they are?" Marya asked, her voice dangerously calm.
Both women shook their heads. "We heard about the explosions," Brisa explained, "and about how Blue Sea dwellers saved the patrons at the tavern. We came looking for Vesta because we knew she had a gig there, and… you know the rest."
Marya's next question was cutting. "How fanatical are they? Would they injure their… 'guests'?"
Brisa and Inanna shared another uncertain look. "I don't think so, but…" Inanna began.
Galit finished the thought, his voice grim. "But there could be collateral damage."
Aokiji stretched, his large frame seeming to fill the end of the room. "Right," he said, his tone shifting from casual observer to man of action. "Sounds like it is time to have a conversation with our stalker."
Marya gave a single, sharp nod of agreement. The waiting was over. The hunt was on.
*****
The air in the repair bay of Orphan's End was a stew of scents: hot metal, scorched wiring, the tang of hydraulic fluid, and the underlying, ever-present smell of recycled human habitation. In a relatively clear corner, bathed in the unforgiving glare of work lights, a miniature drama of cross-dimensional engineering was unfolding.
Bianca, her raven hair escaping a messy bun, muttered to herself as her fingers danced across a jury-rigged console. "Okay, so if we like, bypass the tertiary flux capacitor and reroute the primary power through the, you know, the spinny thing…" Next to her, Piper, goggles on her forehead and smudges of grease on her cheeks, expertly twisted wires together, her movements economical and sure.
"The spinny thing is called an induction coupler," Piper said without looking up, a faint smile playing on her lips.
"Like, yeah, that," Bianca agreed, pressing a final button with a flourish.
It was then that Souta soundlessly approached, his arrival a quiet announcement. He settled on a crate near Emily Nary, who was watching the proceedings with rapt attention, the damaged data-cell resting in her lap.
Bianca glanced over. "So, like, Emily? Where did you even like, find this thing?"
Emily replied with a, shy glance. "We were conducting research on a desolate moon. It was found amidst the ruins of a structure that predated the First Emergence." Emily turned her storm-grey eyes to Souta, a soft smile gracing her features. "It is good to see you again, sir. Your expertise would be greatly appreciated in this."
Bianca nodded enthusiastically. "Like, yeah, it's totally cool you can read it. I mean, what could the connection be between, like, that moon and everything happening?"
Souta's gaze was distant, thoughtful. "Perhaps we have more in common with this reality than we first realized."
"Like, yeah," Bianca agreed, then looked to Piper. "Ready?"
Piper gave a thumbs-up. "Try it now."
Bianca lowered her heavy magnifying goggles over her eyes. "You might, like, want to stand back. This could get a little… sparky."
Emily's head snapped around at the sudden, firm pressure on her arm. Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink as Souta, his touch surprisingly gentle, took her by the elbow and guided her back several paces, placing his own body between her and the relic.
"All clear," Souta stated, his voice firm.
Bianca nodded. "All clear!" She threw a switch.
The relic let out a low, spitting crackle. For a heart-stopping second, nothing happened. Then, it glowed with a steady, internal light, and the air above it shimmered. Holographic script, the same harsh, angular language, bloomed into being, accompanied by flickering images of figures in antiquated lab coats working at consoles that hummed with a familiar, yet alien, technology.
Bianca slid her goggles up, examining her work with a critical eye. "Like, cool. It looks like it worked."
Piper leaned in, whistling softly. "It appears you were right. I would have never considered that power coupling. I wonder… is this tech more akin to what you're used to from your world than ours?"
Bianca shrugged, crossing her arms. "Like, maybe? But I wonder about the history and stuff. Who were they?"
Emily, her face alight with scholarly excitement, placed a brief, appreciative hand on Souta's shoulder as she stepped around him to join the conversation. "That is one of the questions I hope to answer."
Souta was right on her heels, a silent, watchful presence.
Piper began packing their tools. "We have to go. There are Frames that need repairs before tomorrow."
Emily nodded. "Thanks so much for your assistance."
As the engineers moved away, Souta, feeling suddenly out of place, gestured vaguely to the active relic. "Would you like for me to…?"
Emily nodded, her smile warm and inclusive. "Please. Your input would be most appreciated."
Across the vast bay, where the hulking forms of Armored Frames stood in various states of disassembly, a very different kind of conversation was taking place. Daniel Kamath stood with his arms crossed, his expression a thundercloud. Luke was happily munching on a thick sandwich, crumbs spraying as he talked.
"—don't worry, it'll work out," Luke said around a mouthful of food. "It's worked out fine so far!"
Daniel's frayed nerves finally snapped. "You think this is working out?!"
Luke, about to make a cheerful comment about making new friends, was cut off as Daniel yelled, "And would you stop stuffing your face for five seconds!"
Luke just laughed, a full-bodied, infectious sound that made both Caden and Evander, who were leaning against the 'Wraith's' leg, chuckle despite themselves.
"Sir," Evander said, his voice a calming baritone. "We have traversed this span of space plenty of times. We will get you where you need to go."
Luke clapped them both on the back. "See? It'll work out just fine."
Kuro, who had been observing with Aurélie, interjected smoothly. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I question the tactical necessity of our continued presence in your company."
Caden smirked, not unkindly. "Call it a training opportunity. And you're the only ones available."
Aurélie's cool voice cut through the air. "Is it absolutely required that all of us go? Would it not better serve our… arrangement if some remained?"
"Orders are orders." Evander replied. "Your whole team was… requested."
Aurélie raised a single, elegant eyebrow. "Requested?" Evander winced at his choice of words.
Daniel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Well done, pilots," he grumbled. Everyone turned to him. He gestured across the bay to where Souta and Emily were now hunched over the glowing relic, their heads close together. "We heard about your sudden arrival. And the unique… effect your energy signatures seem to have on the Typhon. There appears to be some sort of connection. The Monastery wishes to investigate it further."
Kuro opened his mouth to protest, but Daniel cut him off. "We are aware of your arrangement with the JFF and have worked out additional compensation."
Both Kuro and Aurélie's jaws tightened almost imperceptibly.
Piper, who had arrived with Bianca, crossed her arms and cocked a hip, fixing the two leaders with a challenging glare. "They may be able to supply you with a Psycho-Reactive Crystal for your vessel. That is also part of the deal."
Daniel groaned. "Yes, yes. But you will have to find one. They are not just laying around. But," he glanced at the strange assemblage of off-worlders, "with your collective… abilities, it may not be an insurmountable challenge for you."
The meeting was suddenly interrupted as Charlie and Jane stumbled into the vicinity, Charlie fussing loudly while a giggling Ember danced just out of his reach. "Ahem! I found her poking around the primary coolant lines! It was a security risk!" Charlie insisted, his face red. The moment he spotted Souta and Emily with the active relic, however, his academic fervor took over. He completely ignored the strategy meeting and began gravitating towards them like a moth to a flame.
Souta looked up from the hologram, a scowl darkening his features as he saw the scholar barreling towards them, utterly oblivious to the delicate atmosphere he was about to shatter.
Caden, shaking his head at the scene, brought the meeting back to order. "Okay, how are repairs?"
Piper nodded. "The Frames and the Mule will be serviced and combat-ready within the hour."
"Good," Caden said. "Then we leave first thing in the morning! Everyone get some rest and we'll see you then." The order was given, but the air was thick with the unspoken understanding that rest would be a luxury, and the path to the Celestial Monastery was paved with more questions than answers.
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