Part 1:
The city of Aegis rose from the wasteland like a dream refusing to die.
Jyn Vey walked through the morning market district, his boots clicking against amber crystal bricks that formed the main thoroughfare. Each brick had been harvested from Crystalist trees, shaped by hand into perfect rectangles interlocked without mortar. They glowed faintly in the morning twilight, their inner light in harmony with the great trees that surrounded the city.
The shard in his inner coat pocket had a warmth pressing against his ribs that had become as familiar as his own heartbeat. Five years carrying it, and five more years since the night that had orphaned him and left him with questions that had no answers.
Above him, the Crystalist trees dominated the skyline. They were impossible things, these trees—their trunks thick as buildings, rising several hundred feet into the gray sky. The bark was wood and also something between, a fusion of organic growth and mineral accumulation that had emerged in the decades after the Mushroom War. Amber encasing it like it had been frozen in place by crystal, pulsing with a slow, steady light that had nothing to do with electricity. The leaves, if they could be called that, were nearly translucent amber formations that filtered the toxic air, processing it through biological mechanisms that even the Grovekeepers only partially understood.
The trees formed a living wall around Aegis, their roots intertwined beneath the earth in a network that some said was conscious, or at least aware. Inside their large protective circle, the air was breathable without masks, the water ran clear, and humanity could pretend, for a few precious hours each day, that the world hadn't ended in nuclear fire and biological catastrophe.
The market sprawled before him in organized chaos. The closer you got to the government buildings at the city's heart, the more refined everything became. Here, near the center, the stalls were permanent structures built from salvaged materials and new growth Crystalist wood. The amber crystal streets were perfect glowing as they always did. Merchants wore clean clothes, their wares displayed on proper tables. The smell of cooking meat and fresh bread everywhere.
A patrol of city guards moved through the crowd with practiced efficiency. Their ceramic armor gleamed dully in the amber light, each piece individually shaped from the shells of wasteland crabs and fused with Crystalist resin. The armor was incredibly durable, resistant to acid rain and most small arms fire, though it did little against the claws of a Hollowborn or the bite of radiation. They carried swords rather than guns—ammunition was precious, and in the close quarters of the city, a blade was often more practical. The swords were works of art in their own way, ceramic edges honed to extreme sharpness, handles wrapped in treated leather that wouldn't dissolve in acid rain.
"moss burners" a vendor called out. "Direct from the inner groves! Purify your home air for a month!"
"Amber exchange! Best rates in the market! Blue ingots broken down to yellow shards!"
"Preserved pre-war foods! Canned goods from sealed bunkers! No radiation, guaranteed!"
The currency of the Confederacy flowed through the market like blood through veins. Blue amber ingots were the highest denomination the premium currency—a single ingot represented a year's work for a skilled laborer. They were kept in locked strongboxes if obtained, brought out only for major transactions. Yellow amber shards were the month's currency, and Pink amber chips, each one worth a day's wages. all could be used for specialized goods and services. They were Crystalist groves only formed inside the government center. The trees that only the government had access to and fertilized specifically in different ways to obtain the unique color variations.
Jyn paused at a stall selling technical components, the vendor's table covered in circuit boards and power cells that had been salvaged from the ruins. The vendor, an elderly woman with radiation scars along her neck, looked up at his approach.
"Jyn Vey," she said, her voice raspy from years of breathing unfiltered air. "Haven't seen you in the market for a while."
"Been busy, Marta," he replied, examining a power cell that still showed a partial charge. "How's business?"
"Can't complain. The Strider's been buying up everything tech-related, paying premium prices. Something's got them excited." She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "speaking of, someone's been poking around, been asking about you specifically. About your parents' work."
The shards heat pulsed a moment, and Jyn forced himself to remain casual. "People can ask all they want, it was a true catastrophe."
"True enough. But they're usually more subtle about it." She straightened as another customer approached. "Just thought you should know."
He thanked her and moved on, the warning settling into his bones alongside all the others. The Striders had been growing bolder lately, their recruitment efforts less suggestion and more demand. Their promises of freewill had promise.
The government district loomed ahead, its buildings a testament to the oligarchy that ruled Aegis. The Sanctuary Confederacy was, at its heart, a trade confederation. The five families that controlled the major trade routes also controlled the government. Their buildings reflected their priorities—function over form, profit over beauty. Each structure was a fortress of salvaged steel and wood, designed to withstand siege and storm alike.
The Council Hall stood at the center, its facade covered in amber panels that had been harvested from the oldest trees. The panels had been inscribed with the laws of the Confederacy, the text glowing faintly with bioluminescent moss that had been cultivated specifically for this purpose. It was both practical and symbolic—the law was literally alive, growing and adapting.
Trade was the highest priority here. The oligarchy understood that in a world where resources were scarce and danger constant, the flow of goods was the flow of life itself. They taxed the trade routes, controlled the amber currency, and maintained the infrastructure that kept Aegis functioning. It wasn't a perfect system—no system could be in a world like this—but it worked.
Jyn's path took him past the Council Hall and back into the market proper. He was looking for someone specific, and after five years of scavenging, he knew exactly where to find him.
"Jyn! Over here, you magnificent bastard!"
Xander Voss stood near a weapons vendor, his arms full of components that looked like they'd been assembled by someone who understood theory better than practice. His wild hair—inherited from his father Gregory—stuck up at odd angles, singed at the tips from his latest experiment. He even organized his salvage, each piece tagged and catalogued, shown by the methodical nature of his Mother Alex
"Let me guess," Jyn said, taking half the load before Xander could drop it. "You tried to improve the cooling system on your cryo rifle again."
"I succeeded in improving the cooling system," Xander corrected. "I just also succeeded in freezing half the workshop. Dad was not pleased. Well, Alex wasn't pleased. Gregory thought it was hilarious until he realized we'd have to thaw everything manually."
They made their way through the market, Xander chattering about thermal dynamics and crystalline matrices while Jyn half-listened. His friend's enthusiasm was infectious, even when the technical details went over his head sometimes. Xander had been building things since before he could walk properly, taking apart and reassembling anything his parents would let him touch. The post-war world was paradise for someone like him—endless salvage to repurpose, constant challenges to overcome.
"Where's Elesa?" Xander asked, finally running out of technical jargon.
"Where do you think?"
They found her at the grove's edge, where the city proper gave way to the checkpoint stations. She stood perfectly still, watching the wasteland beyond the trees with the focused intensity of a predator. Her falcon blade rested on her side, the swept-back guard visible over her hip. She'd modified her armor again—additional ceramic plating at the joints,for protection.
"You're late," she said without turning around.
"Xander had to explain his latest near-death experience," Jyn replied.
"It wasn't near-death. It was a barely living experience. Totally different Jyn,You gotta be a half glass full kind of guy."
"Isn't the glass always full, Xander?"
Elesa turned to face them, and Jyn saw the concern in her green eyes. "The patrols have been reporting increased Hollowborn activity. Packs moving with and some moving without purpose."
"Hollowborn don't coordinate," Xander said automatically. "They're fungal automatons driven by base biological imperatives. The hive mind only extends to local clusters."
"Tell that to the three settlements that have gone dark this week," Elesa countered.
They approached the checkpoint, where Chen was on duty. The guard looked tired, the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that came from too many shifts and too little sleep.
"Morning, Chen," Jyn greeted her.
"Is it?" She checked the watch on her wrist. "So it is. You three heading out?"
"Standard salvage run," Elesa replied. "Eastern routes."
Chen nodded, making notes on her data pad. "Be careful out there. We've had reports... strange reports. Travelers are seeing things that shouldn't exist. Hearing voices where there's no one to speak. The wasteland's always been dangerous, but lately, it feels different. Wrong."
"Wrong how?" Jyn asked.
"Can't say exactly. Just... be careful. And if you see anything unusual, anything at all, report it when you return."
They passed through the checkpoint, showing their salvager licenses—laminated cards that had cost them dozens of yellow amber shards and weeks of training to obtain. The guards knew them by sight now, but protocol was protocol.
The final checkpoint stood at the very edge of the grove, where the last of the great Crystalist trees formed a natural gateway. Beyond lay the wasteland, visible through the amber haze like a wound in the world. The contrast was absolute—life on one side, death on the other, with only the thickness of a tree trunk between them.
"Ready?" Jyn asked, checking his rifle one last time. The weapon was Xander's creation, designed specifically for the kind of threats they faced. It could fire both standard rounds and specialized hollow-point ammunition designed to maximize damage to the fungal structures that animated into Hollowborn.
"Ready," Elesa confirmed, her hand resting on her blade's hilt.
"Ready!" Xander said with entirely too much enthusiasm. "Let's go find somewhere dangerous and probably toxic to explore!"