Location: Dark Forest Mid Ring Cave | Northern Wilderness, Lower Realm, Doha
Time: Morning After First Night
Waking felt different.
Not the jerky snap-to-alertness of a slave expecting violence. Not the tactical assessment of threat levels that'd governed sixty years of Federation operations. Just... gradual awareness. Comfortable warmth from blankets. Soft crackle of dying embers in the fire pit. The faint luminescence of cave moss painting everything in gentle blue-green light.
Safe.
The concept felt foreign. Strange. Wrong, almost, like wearing someone else's clothes.
How long since either of us woke up without immediate danger?
(A long time,) Jade whispered. (More than ten years. And you—)
Sixty years of sleeping with one eye open. Old habits.
But this morning, in this cave, with stone walls between them and the world—neither personality had woken in panic. Neither had reached for weapons or scanned for exits or catalogued threats.
They'd just... slept.
Jayde sat up slowly, leather armor creaking. She'd kept it on overnight—Federation protocol, never sleep unprotected—but now it felt unnecessarily paranoid. The cave was secure. The entrance narrow and defensible. The forest outside had remained quiet through the night.
Still. Better safe than dead.
She stretched carefully, testing this body's limits. Fifteen years old, malnourished, extensively scarred—but Federation muscle memory was starting to integrate with Jade's nervous system. The movements came smoother now. More natural. Like two musicians learning to play the same instrument, finding harmony in shared space.
Morning routine. Assess status, check defenses, and inventory supplies.
(Can we eat first? I'm starving.)
After perimeter check.
(You're paranoid.)
You're alive because I'm paranoid.
Fair point.
Jayde moved to the narrow fissure entrance, peering out into the Dark Forest's perpetual twilight. The mid ring remained quiet—no sounds of pursuit, no disturbance in the undergrowth, no scent of smoke from tracking parties. Just the usual forest ambiance: distant creature calls, rustling leaves, the ever-present feeling of being watched by things that chose not to show themselves.
Clan hunters would've reached the forest edge by now. But they won't penetrate this deep. Not without serious preparation.
(How long before they organize a proper hunting party?)
Days. Maybe a week. Za'thul will need to gather resources, hire trackers, and convince cultivators it's worth the risk. Jayde turned back to the cave interior. Which gives us time. Not much. But enough to start.
The deep water pool at the cave's rear caught morning light filtering through some crack far above, its surface mirror-smooth and inviting. Jayde knelt beside it, cupping cold water to her face. The chill shocked her awake fully—sharp and clean, tasting faintly of minerals and stone.
She drank deeply, then stripped off the uncomfortable leather armor.
The pool was maybe fifteen feet across, depth uncertain. Jayde tested it with one foot—cold enough to make her gasp, but not unbearable. She slid in fully, letting the water close over her short-cropped hair.
Gods, that felt good.
Weeks of accumulated grime washed away. Blood from the explosion. Dirt from running through the forest. Sweat from fear and exertion. The water turned cloudy around her, carrying away the physical evidence of her escape.
(We're really safe here,) Jade murmured. (Aren't we? This is real?)
For now. Don't get comfortable. Safe is temporary. Safe is—
(I know. Safe is dangerous because it makes you soft.) Jade's voice carried a gentle rebuke. (But maybe... maybe we can have this morning? Just this one morning where we don't expect death around every corner?)
Jayde surfaced, water streaming from her face.
One morning, she agreed quietly. Then we get back to work.
***
After bathing and re-dressing in the leather armor—she'd need to make proper clothing soon, something less restrictive—Jayde turned her attention to the old man's journals.
She'd seen them yesterday during inventory: thirty-some volumes stacked on shelves above the desk, bound in various materials. Leather, cloth, and what looked like treated bark. Years of accumulated knowledge from someone who'd made this cave their sanctuary.
Jayde selected one at random—middle of the stack, journal number seventeen—and settled by the fire pit with breakfast. One of the preserved meat sticks from the food chest, some dried fruit, and water from the pool. Simple. Filling. Better than anything she'd eaten as a slave.
The journal opened to neat, cramped handwriting. She had to sound out some characters—Jade's literacy was limited, learned in secret in the Freehold library—but Federation pattern recognition helped fill gaps.
Year 9,887. Thirteenth month, fourth day.
The taurussoos herd has moved north. Tracks suggest at least twenty adults, which means the mid-ring population is recovering from last winter's cold snap. Good news for the ecosystem. Bad news for anyone stupid enough to wander into their territory during mating season.
Found new growth of red blossom lotus near the eastern water source. Harvested three mature specimens, left the rest to propagate. The Verdant essence in this area is stronger than I'd estimated—possibly due to the underground spring system feeding nutrients through volcanic mineral deposits.
Jayde flipped forward.
Year 9,892. Seventh month, fifteenth day.
Nearly died today. Shadowbeast pride ambushed me while I was collecting ember moss near the lava tubes. Three adults, two juveniles. I only survived because the alpha recognized my scent from the time I treated her cub's injured leg. She called off the attack. Note to self: maintaining positive relationships with apex predators is not paranoia, it's survival insurance.
Further still.
Year 9,901. Second month, twenty-first day.
The seal on my Crucible Core is weakening. I can feel it—tiny cracks in the binding, small surges of Ember Qi leaking through during exertion. Another five years, maybe ten, and it'll fail completely. By then, I'll be too old for the backlash to matter. At least I'll die with magic in my veins instead of as the worthless Voidforge the clans declared me.
Jayde's hands tightened on the journal.
Voidforge.
Like her.
The old man was Voidforge, she realized. That's why he was here. That's why he survived alone in the Dark Forest for— She flipped back to the first dated entry. —over thirty years. He wasn't some hermit cultivator. He was an outcast. Like us.
(He made a whole life here,) Jade whispered. (All alone. And he survived.)
More than survived. Thrived. Jayde looked around the cave with new appreciation. Mapped the forest. Studied the ecosystem. Built relationships with spirit beasts. Created a sanctuary where he could live and work and find purpose.
She kept reading, drawn into the old man's story.
He'd been cast out at age thirty-two—he wasn't born Voidforge, but after a run-in with the Temple of Light, the next day, his Crucible Core seemed to have disappeared. His clan thought he had been cursed and cast him out. He tried hard to investigate what happened to him, but after nearly losing his life a couple of times, realizing that he was being hunted, he decided to escape to the Dark Forest.
The Temple of Light, Jayde knew very little about them. They were a sect that gained traction about a thousand years ago. A clue, something to look into later, when we are stronger, maybe he was sealed just like us.
The journals documented everything: edible plants, dangerous creatures, seasonal patterns, safe routes through the different rings. Brewing medicinal concoctions from forest herbs. Smithing weapons from scavenged ore. Building defensive formations using natural materials and clever positioning rather than Ember Qi.
This is intelligence gold, Jayde assessed. Thirty years of survival knowledge condensed into practical reference guides. Everything we need to not just survive but establish ourselves.
She was deep in a section about identifying poisonous mushrooms—fascinating, really, how three similar-looking species had wildly different effects—when she noticed something odd.
The pages felt wrong.
Thicker. Stiffer. Like—
Like they're glued together.
Jayde ran her finger along the edge. Definitely stuck. And not by accident—the adhesive was deliberate, meant to seal whatever was between those pages from casual discovery.
Her pulse quickened.
Hidden information. The kind you don't want just anyone finding.
She retrieved one of the daggers from the weapons chest—the thin, precise one—and carefully inserted the blade between the stuck pages. Gentle pressure. Slow, patient work. The kind of careful attention that'd served her well defusing Federation explosives and picking Freehold locks.
The pages separated with a soft tearing sound.
And revealed handwriting in darker ink. Shakier than the rest. Written by trembling hands or in poor light, or maybe both.
If you're reading this, I'm dead. And you've found my cave. Which means the wards recognized you as someone who needed sanctuary more than I needed privacy. Good. That's how it should work.
I don't have much time left. The seal is failing faster than I calculated. Maybe days. Maybe hours. But there are things you should know.
First: I was not born Voidforge, but made one. If you're here, you probably are too, or you wouldn't have made it past the formations without triggering defenses. Us so-called Cursed Ones have to stick together, even across death.
(He left this for someone like us,) Jade breathed. (He knew eventually another Voidforge would need this place.)
Second: The sealed chamber. Through the forge room, down the passage, past the empty storage area. There's a final door I never opened. Something in there... I could sense it. Divine-level artifact, I think. Maybe Luminari origin. The wards on that door are beyond my skill to break, but they seem to be keyed to Voidforge essence. Which means someone without a Crucible Core might have better luck than someone with one.
Jayde's heart hammered.
Third: The space ring on my finger. It's sealed. I did it myself when I realized the end was coming. Everything truly valuable—my life's research, my investigation into The Temple of Life, my cultivation notes, the treasures I couldn't bear to leave unsecured—it's all in there. But opening it requires magic. Which I know is scorchingly ironic for a Voidforge to require, but I was paranoid about thieves and didn't think it through.
(The ring,) Jade realized. (It should have fallen off.)
You'll need to unseal your core before you can access what I've left. I'm sorry I couldn't make it easier. But if you've survived this long as a Cursed One, you're resourceful enough to figure it out eventually.
Fourth and final: Don't be like me. Don't hide forever. I made a peaceful life here, yes. But I was alone. And loneliness is its own kind of death, just slower. If you get strong enough to leave this forest, do it. Find people worth trusting. Build something more than survival. And more importantly, do not fight The Temple of Light head-on. They are a lot more dangerous than you think, and they seem to have some sort of purpose here—they are looking for someone or something. Be careful.
The cave is yours now. Use it well.
— Zhek Moonwhisper, formerly of the Starwind Clan
The signature was dated six months ago.
Jayde sat back, journal trembling in her hands.
Zhek. The old man had a name. Had a clan. Had a whole life before becoming the skeleton in the corner.
(We should bury him,) Jade said softly. (He gave us everything. We should at least give him that.)
Agreed.
***
They buried Zhek Moonwhisper at dawn, in a small clearing just outside the cave entrance where sunlight—or what passed for sunlight in the mid ring's perpetual twilight—could reach through the canopy.
Jayde had dug the grave herself, using the small hatchet from the supply chest. Hard work. Exhausting work. But important work. The kind that demanded physical effort as payment for sanctuary received.
The skeleton was surprisingly light. All flesh long since returned to dust, only bones remaining—testimony to how thoroughly the preservation wards had maintained the cave interior while letting nature take its course on organic material.
She'd found the space ring exactly as Zhek's journal predicted: fallen from skeletal fingers, half-buried in dust near where his hand had lain. A simple band of dark metal, no ornamentation, with a tiny crystal embedded in the surface. Federation pattern recognition identified it immediately—dimensional storage device, sealed with an energy signature lock.
Can't open it, Jayde confirmed after examining it carefully. The seal requires active Ember Qi to break. Which we don't have.
(So it's useless?)
For now. But once Isha unlocks the first layer of the Divine Eightfold Lock— She pocketed the ring carefully. —then we'll see what Zhek thought was worth protecting.
She lowered the skeleton into the grave gently. Respectfully. Bones arranged as close to their natural position as possible—head oriented north, as Doha tradition dictated. Hands folded across the chest cavity.
(Should we say something?) Jade asked.
I'm not good at eulogies.
(Neither am I. But it feels wrong to just fill in the dirt without words.)
Jayde knelt beside the grave, one hand on cool earth.
"Zhek Moonwhisper," she said quietly. "I never knew you. But you knew me—knew what I'd need, what I'd face, what I'd become. You left sanctuary for a stranger. Left knowledge for someone you'd never meet. Left kindness in a world that gave you only cruelty."
The forest listened. Wind through branches. Distant creature sounds. The eternal rustle of the Dark Forest's hidden life.
"Thank you," Jayde continued. "For the cave. For the supplies. For thirty years of survival wisdom condensed into journals. For proof that being Voidforge doesn't mean being worthless." Her voice caught. "I'll use what you've given me. I'll get stronger. And when I'm ready—when I can leave this forest without dying immediately—I'll make sure your sacrifice mattered."
(We both will,) Jade added softly. (We promise.)
Jayde began filling in the grave. Earth falling on bones. Dust to dust. Stone to stone.
She marked it with a cairn—stacked stones forming a small monument. Nothing elaborate. Nothing that would draw attention from hostile forces. Just a marker, so if she ever returned, she'd remember where Zhek rested.
"Sleep now," she whispered. "You've earned it."
The forest sighed. Branches creaked. And for just a moment, Jayde felt something—warmth, maybe, or approval, or just the wind shifting—that felt almost like acknowledgment.
Like Zhek's spirit, wherever it had gone, was satisfied.
***
"It's time," Isha said.
Jayde turned. The feline-humanoid stood at the cave entrance, emerald eyes gleaming in the dim light. His fur—those intricate brown-cream-white-grey swirls—seemed to shimmer slightly, like reality bent around him.
"Time for what?"
"To enter the Starforge Nexus properly." Isha's tail swished. "You've established yourself here. Buried the previous occupant. Claimed the sanctuary. But hiding in a cave won't make you stronger. Training will. And for that, we need the facilities."
The dimensional space, Jayde realized. The artifact system he's been hinting at.
(Is it safe?) Jade asked nervously. (What if it's a trap?)
Everything's a trap until proven otherwise. But we contracted with him. That means something in this world—bonds have power here.
"What exactly is this Nexus?" Jayde asked carefully.
Isha smiled—the expression looked slightly wrong on his feline features, but genuine. "Let me show you."
He raised one hand—no, paw? Something between—and traced a pattern in the air. Not Doha magic, not the Ember Qi weaving Jade's memories recognized. Something else. Something older.
The air rippled.
Reality folded.
Space itself seemed to bend, like looking through heat shimmer or underwater distortion. A seam appeared in the fabric of existence—a vertical line of brilliant blue-white light that expanded into an oval doorway tall enough for Jayde to walk through standing.
Beyond the threshold: not the Dark Forest. Not anything from Doha.
Something else entirely.
"The Starforge Nexus," Isha announced, "is a pocket dimension. Folded space, created by Luminari dimensional engineers thousands of years before Doha's current civilizations rose. It exists... sideways to normal reality. Anchored to you through our contract, but separate from the physical world."
Jayde stared at the portal. Through the opening, she could see... she wasn't sure. Light. Structure. Something vast and intricate that her eyes couldn't quite focus on from this angle.
Pocket dimension. Like the theoretical models Federation scientists played with but never successfully built.
(It's beautiful,) Jade breathed.
"There are costs," Isha continued. "The Nexus requires energy to operate. Specifically, Quantum Flux Cores—crystalline power sources that maintain dimensional stability and enable the system's functions." His expression grew serious. "I have very few left. Enough to keep basic operations running for another ten years, but not enough for... expansive usage."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning we must be strategic. Currently, only the training facility has full functionality, including time dilation. Other areas exist but remain dormant—shrouded in what you'll see as mist. As you grow stronger, as you earn resources, we can activate more. But for now, we prioritize survival. We prioritize making you strong enough to thrive."
Energy constraints. Limited resources. Strategic allocation of power. Jayde nodded slowly. Just like running a Federation outpost on limited fuel. Operate efficiently or die.
"Time dilation?" she asked.
"Currently calibrated to six-to-one. Six days inside the training facility equals one day outside in Doha." Isha's tail swished. "Your clan hunters won't reach this deep into the forest for at least a week, probably longer. Which gives us six weeks inside to build your foundation before we need to worry about external threats."
Six weeks. Forty-two days of training in seven days of external time.
That's... a significant tactical advantage.
"What do I have to do?"
"Walk through." Isha gestured to the portal. "The Nexus recognizes you as my contractor. It will accept you. And once inside, we can discuss everything properly—the Exchange System, the mission board, the Divine Eightfold Lock, the path forward."
Jayde studied the shimmering doorway. Every Federation instinct screamed caution—unknown technology, untested systems, potential for catastrophic failure. But Jade's memories whispered different warnings: clans hunting her, cultivation sealed, body weak, enemies everywhere.
Stay here, stay weak, stay vulnerable. Or step through and gamble on getting stronger.
Not really a choice.
"Let's go," Jayde said.
She walked toward the portal.
The light grew brighter. That blue-white radiance intensified until she had to squint. One step. Two. Three.
The threshold rushed up to meet her—
Reality twisted—
And Jayde stepped through into the Starforge Nexus.