Private Beneath the Endless Constellation

[Malachi Blackwood]

Beneath the Endless Constellation

[]

A Procissão dos Que Não Foram Chorados

Tags --> Liin Terallo​

The night draped itself across Soto'lok Winda'nia like the burial shroud of some forgotten king, every star above seeming less a light than a patient eye fixed upon the Blackwood Estate.

I stood alone upon the balcony, hands folded behind my back as the cold wind carried the scent of ancient forests and older graves, watching the heavens for the vessel that would bear my guest to my threshold. Miss Linn Terallo, a woman whose reputation had reached even these secluded halls through whispers traded by scholars and merchants alike.

There was something hauntingly compelling about her name, as though it had been etched into a page that sensible minds refused to read twice. I did not wonder whether she possessed talent; I already believed she did. What fascinated me was whether her spirit would remain unbroken when confronted with truths that had devoured wiser souls.

The House of Blackwood did not simply exist within the galaxy; it lingered beneath its skin like a dream too dreadful to awaken from.

Bootsteps approached without urgency, their cadence unmistakable. Varkhael Blackwood came to stand beside me, the moonlight catching the dark crimson trim upon the armor of the Captain of the Wardens of the First Hunger. He was one of the precious few permitted to discard ceremony, and with the faintest smirk he murmured, "Nervous, Malachi?"

A quiet chuckle escaped me before my gaze returned to the stars. "Slightly, Varkhael. Not in the manner you or the others might think. I have faith in this Miss Terallo's abilities. I am merely curious how she will perceive us...and how comfortable she will be around us."

His expression shifted with immediate realization. "Wait...you didn't tell her about us? You? What we are? The entirety of House Blackwood?" I answered with a measured grin that carried more shadows than warmth.

"And if I did, do you truly believe a mortal would willingly come here, to this planet of all places? No. It is better she is welcomed as a friend. Let her own judgment decide whether she wishes to aid us... or flee this world screaming 'vampires!' at the top of her lungs."

I rested a reassuring hand upon his shoulder, the gesture shared only between brothers forged by blood and eternity. "Besides...her safety is in your hands, Captain." Varkhael inclined his head without hesitation, and somewhere beyond the black horizon, a lone mechanical star descended toward our world, carrying destiny ever closer to the waiting gates of House Blackwood.​

 

[Liin Terallo]

The stars always looked different when someone invited me somewhere that they refused to properly describe. I had spent the better part of the journey studying the navigational data, comparing it against every chart that I could legally access. Soto'lok Winda'nia. Depending on which archive I consulted, it was either an unremarkable system, a cartographic error, or a name attached to little more than rumor. That alone had been enough to make me suspicious. People rarely summoned scientists to places that officially did not exist. More than once I had entertained the possibility that the invitation itself was some elaborate joke at my expense. A fabricated world. A fabricated estate. A fabricated benefactor waiting to laugh when I inevitably discovered that there was nothing here at all. It would hardly have been the first time that someone had underestimated my curiosity.

Besides, if there truly was someone hidden this far beyond the familiar routes, someone with resources sufficient to remain unnoticed while still managing to find me, then perhaps they possessed knowledge of their own. Knowledge could be exchanged. Favors could be earned. Every new acquaintance was another thread in a web that might one day stretch as far as New Cov. That hope alone justified the journey.

As the shuttle pierced the atmosphere, I leaned slightly toward the viewport to take a look at the landing sight. "...Well." The word escaped me almost involuntarily. The estate was real. It emerged from the darkness not as a beacon; but as though the night itself had chosen to become architecture. Ancient walls, towering silhouettes, and moonlight clinging to stone that seemed to have forgotten what sunlight felt like.

My fingers unconsciously found the satchel resting beside me, reassuring myself that my notebooks remained exactly where I had packed them. Paper was harder to steal than data. It was harder to alter and harder to erase.

A slow breath steadied me. This wasn't the first time that I had walked willingly into uncertainty. Usually uncertainty looked considerably less determined to haunt my dreams.

As the shuttle settled onto the landing platform, I remained seated for one last moment, studying the estate through the glass. Curiosity had brought me here while common sense was beginning to file it's formal objection. Nevertheless, I rose, collected my satchel, and stepped toward the hatch as it cycled open. Whatever waited beyond it had gone to considerable effort to find me. The least that I could do was to hear them out.

Tag: Malachi Blackwood

 

[Malachi Blackwood]

Beneath the Endless Constellation

[]

A Procissão dos Que Não Foram Chorados

Tags --> Liin Terallo​

The engines descended through the darkened heavens with the sonorous cadence of a war drum washing across a battlefield, their thunder rolling over the ebony landing platform where I stood as still as a monument carved for a dead king.

Behind me waited two silent nobles of the Wardens of the First Hunger, their ruby red-lined cloaks stirring like the wings of carrion ravens while their pale faces betrayed neither warmth nor judgment, only the ancient patience of hunters who had survived empires.

At my left stood Captain Varkhael, ever rigid beneath his sable attire, his discipline as unyielding as beskar and his gaze fixed upon the descending vessel. As the landing struts embraced the stone with a mournful hiss and the boarding ramp unfurled like the tongue of some slumbering abyssal creature, my attention settled upon the lone figure revealed within.

Liin Terallo emerged with a grace that seemed almost sacrilegious against the bleak majesty of my ancestral world, beauty untouched by the melancholy that stained these haunted mountains.

I stepped forward, the echoes of my boots swallowed by the eternal silence surrounding the Blackwood Somnia Estate, and inclined my head with measured respect.

"Miss Terallo," I said, my voice carrying softly beneath the sighing wind, "welcome to my estate. We have much to discuss in the coming hours and weeks ahead, though I suspect the journey has left you both weary and understandably wary. We receive precious few visitors this far beyond the familiar veins of the galaxy, and fewer still whom I deem worthy of crossing these ancient thresholds."

Extending a ghostly hand toward the man beside me, I offered the introduction with quiet confidence. "Allow me to present Captain Varkhael. He stands at your service both day and night should you require anything during your stay." The captain answered only with a respectful bow of his head, as words were seldom necessary for men whose loyalty had already been written in blood.

I returned my gaze to Liin Terallo, the distant towers of my estate looming behind me like black spires raised in worship to forgotten constellations.

"For now, Miss Terallo, permit Captain Varkhael to escort you to your accommodations. Once you have found your footing and the fatigue of hyperspace has loosened its grip, he shall guide you to the banquet hall, where a marvelous feast has been prepared in your honor. Until then, I sincerely hope you find something worthy of admiration within the halls of the Blackwood Somnia Estate. After dinner, I would be delighted to offer you a proper tour while we break the ice before turning our attention to matters of business."

With that, I drew one hand across my chest and performed the refined gentleman's bow that House Blackwood had preserved for centuries beyond memory, a gesture born from forgotten courts and older civilizations.

Only after holding the bow for a respectful moment did I straighten once more, offering her one final courteous smile before turning away, leaving the estate itself to whisper its first haunting welcome to its newest guest.​

 

[Liin Terallo]

The reception was unlike anything I had anticipated. For a brief moment I simply stood at the foot of the shuttle's boarding ramp, my satchel resting comfortably over one shoulder while moonlight stretched long shadows across the ancient stone beneath my feet. I had expected security. Perhaps a steward. Certainly not a welcoming committee that appeared as though it had stepped directly from the pages of a forgotten history text.

My eyes moved briefly between the assembled figures before settling once more upon the man who had greeted me. "Mister Blackwood." I inclined my head with quiet respect, matching the courtesy that he had shown me, though without the centuries-old elegance that seemed second nature to him. "I thank you for your hospitality." There was a sincerity to my voice that rarely changed, regardless of whom I addressed.

"I must admit, though..." A faint smile found it's way onto my lips as I looked briefly toward the immense estate rising behind him. "...this far exceeds my expectations by a rather considerable margin." That, perhaps, was the understatement of the evening.

My attention shifted to the silent captain beside him. "Captain Varkhael." I offered him the same polite nod. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

The mention of weeks lingered quietly in the back of my mind. Weeks? I had packed for several days. A small, entirely private inventory immediately assembled itself within my thoughts; two formal blouses, three skirts, one blazer, travelling clothes, practical shoes and laboratory attire that now seemed spectacularly unnecessary. I had once owned a wardrobe suited for galas, diplomatic receptions and corporate celebrations. Though most of it had been sold. Funding anonymous laboratories, safehouses and research expeditions had seemed considerably more important than owning beautiful gowns. I had never regretted the decision.

Until approximately ten seconds ago. Well, I thought with quiet amusement, rotating outfits is about to become an unexpected exercise in efficiency. At least everything I had brought remained neat and respectable, if not particularly glamorous. Looking around the estate, I couldn't help but feel just a little underdressed. It wasn't vanity that bothered me so much as the desire to show proper respect for the generosity I was being shown.

My thoughts returned to Mister Blackwood. "You've been remarkably generous already," I said. "I appreciate both the invitation and your willingness to accommodate me for so long."

My gaze wandered briefly toward the towering structure beyond him. Every archway and weathered stone seemed determined to conceal another century of stories. "I suspect I'll have no difficulty finding something worthy of admiration." If anything, I suspected the opposite. There was enough architecture here alone to occupy several notebooks. My fingers absently brushed the leather satchel hanging at my side. "I'll gladly accept the opportunity to rest before dinner. Hyperspace travel has a peculiar talent for convincing one's body that time has become entirely optional."

A soft chirp interrupted the conversation. The little biomass creature peered cautiously from the partially opened flap of my satchel before deciding that the gathering was sufficiently interesting to warrant further investigation. It stretched it's neck toward Captain Varkhael with unmistakable curiosity before retreating again almost immediately, apparently satisfied that no immediate danger presented itself.

I couldn't help but smile. "I do apologize," I said. "It has rather convinced itself that every new place exists solely for it's inspection."

Looking back toward Mister Blackwood, I inclined my head once more. "Until dinner, then."

I then turned to accompany Captain Varkhael into the estate; my pace unhurried despite the curiosity quietly building within me. The halls felt impossibly old. Every stone seemed to carry the weight of generations that had walked these corridors long before my own world had even dreamed of reaching the stars. It reminded me, strangely enough, that the galaxy was always larger than I had ever imagined it to be. As I crossed the threshold, I found myself asking the same questions that always accompanied the beginning of a new research project. Who built this place? How much history had these walls witnessed? And perhaps the question that interested me most of all....What kind of man chooses to call a place like this home?

Tag: Malachi Blackwood

 

[Malachi Blackwood]

Beneath the Endless Constellation

[]

A Procissão dos Que Não Foram Chorados

Tags --> Liin Terallo
​

I sat at the head of the banquet table beneath vaulted arches of cold, ebony stone, my gaze drifting across a feast that seemed less a meal and more an archive of civilizations.

Dishes from a hundred cultures of the galaxy had been arranged with meticulous precision, each section devoted to a people, a world, a history. Delicately spiced seafood from distant oceanic moons rested beside roasted game harvested from ancient forest worlds; jeweled fruits glimmered beneath silver platters while aromatic stews exhaled fragrant veils into the dim air.

Crystal-clear carafes stood between them like captured stars, filled with wines of deep red, amber liquors that shimmered with strange internal luminescence, and non-alcoholic nectars whose colors shifted subtly beneath the chandeliers.

Yet despite the abundance, the hall felt haunted by absence.

Beyond Liin Terallo, Captain Varkhael, myself, and a handful of Wardens of the First Hunger standing silent watch among the shadows, the immense chamber lacked the customary voices of noble guests. The silence lingered like an old spirit lingering within the bones of a forgotten crypt.

I folded my hands atop the darkwood table and offered Liin a faint smile. "My apologies, Miss Terallo, for so much substance, but our chef rarely has the opportunity to create dishes for, shall I say, people of refined tastes."

Nodding my head, I watched as the illumination throughout the hall gradually dimmed. Darkness gathered in the corners like ink spilled from some cosmic abyss until a pale blue glow suddenly emerged along the left wall.

A holographic projection flickered into existence, displaying clusters of remote star systems hidden within the Unknown Regions.

"There are many worlds in the Unknown Regions that are both undeveloped and scarcely explored; a tragedy on both fronts. And with the presence of the Farworld Alliance sniffing around, I fear they may disrupt the balance in this region, peace and prosperity have a way of being misconstrued. But that is not why I requested you and your expertise, to talk politics."

My eyes remained fixed upon the spectral stars rotating across the wall. "Rather, I wished to discuss a project that is both beneficial to the region and to the growing overpopulation of the galaxy."

I paused, allowing the holographic constellations to cast their ghostly reflections across the crystal carafes. "Tell me, Miss Terallo...what do you know about terraforming?"​

 

[Liin Terallo]

By the time Captain Varkhael escorted me into the banquet hall, I had already concluded that whoever had designed the estate possessed a profound appreciation for scale. The hall seemed almost too large for the handful of people gathered within it. Stone arches disappeared into shadow overhead while candlelight and chandeliers painted warm reflections across polished darkwood. The silence was remarkable. Not uncomfortable, just merely deliberate. As though the room had grown accustomed to waiting.

Then my attention settled upon the table. I stopped walking. For a brief moment I simply stared. It wasn't merely a feast. It was a survey of the galaxy. My eyes wandered slowly from one arrangement to the next, recognizing some dishes immediately while others belonged to cultures I had only encountered in anthropological journals. Seafood prepared in ways I had never seen before rested beside roasted meats, unfamiliar vegetables, breads, fruits whose colours seemed almost impossible, and beverages that ranged from perfectly ordinary to quietly mysterious.

"I..." A faint laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "I'm not entirely certain where to begin." It felt like admitting defeat before the meal had even started. "I've attended state banquets before," I admitted as I took my seat, "but nothing quite like this."

For a moment I simply studied everything again before selecting a few dishes that looked both familiar and intriguing. If there was one lesson science had taught me, it was that new experiences rarely rewarded excessive caution. The first bite was excellent. Far better than excellent, if I was being honest. "I should compliment your chef," I said after a moment. "Although I'm beginning to suspect that doing so would be insufficient."

When one of the crystal carafes was offered, I accepted a small measure of the red wine. I lifted the glass, studying the deep crimson color as it caught the chandelier's light before taking a careful sip. "This is remarkably smooth." That was another small understatement. I could certainly understand why someone had chosen this particular vintage.

As the lights dimmed, my attention naturally shifted toward the holographic projection spreading across the wall. Instinctively, I leaned forward ever so slightly, studying the unfamiliar systems as they rotated before us. The Unknown Regions. My curiosity immediately displaced whatever attention had remained upon the meal.

When Mister Blackwood finally asked his question, I found myself smiling. "Quite a lot, actually." My eyes remained fully upon the slowly turning star systems. "Although I should probably begin by saying that terraforming is one of those subjects that sounds considerably simpler than it actually is." I set my wine glass gently upon the table. "Most people think of it as changing a planet. But in reality, it's about changing millions of interconnected systems that all depend upon one another. Atmosphere. Soil chemistry. Microbial ecosystems. Hydrological cycles. Native biology, if any exists. Alter one without understanding the others, and you often create problems that are more difficult than the ones you intended to solve."

Almost without realizing it, I had slipped into the comfortable rhythm of explaining science. "My own work approached the problem somewhat differently. I specialized in biomolecules capable of accelerating biological adaptation." My fingers rested lightly against the stem of the wine glass. "Rather than forcing an entire world's environment to change at once, the research explored whether carefully engineered organisms could help ecosystems adapt gradually, repairing damaged environments or preparing hostile ones to sustain more complex life. It wasn't intended to replace conventional terraforming. It was intended to make it gentler."

Only then did I finally look back toward Mister Blackwood. "I'm guessing that you didn't bring me all this way merely to test my knowledge." A hint of amusement reached my eyes. "So..." I tilted my head ever so slightly in his direction. "...what kind of world are you hoping to change?"

Tag: Malachi Blackwood

 

[Malachi Blackwood]

Beneath the Endless Constellation

[]

A Procissão dos Que Não Foram Chorados

Tags --> Liin Terallo
​

I reached for a pair of purple fruits resting amongst the banquet's immaculate arrangement, their skins gleaming beneath crystal chandeliers like polished amethysts plucked from some forgotten temple-world.

Bringing one close, I inhaled its fragrance, and for a fleeting instant memories stirred from catacombs long sealed; echoes of sweetness upon a tongue that no longer remembered such earthly pleasures. A melancholy smile touched my lips as I set the fruits gently upon a plate.

Once, long ago, I had known their taste.

Now they were ornaments, little more than props in the grand theatre of nobility, symbols of appearances maintained and expectations fulfilled. Across from me, Liin Terallo continued speaking upon the intricacies of terraforming, and I listened with genuine fascination.

The depth of her understanding eclipsed every account I had gathered from associates, scholars, and industrialists familiar with her work. Those descriptions had painted a portrait of competence; the woman before me embodied mastery.

Her words flowed with the certainty of one who had conversed with worlds themselves, coaxing life from sterile stone and teaching barren horizons how to dream.

As she finished and her question settled between us, I lifted a glass of red wine. The liquid shimmered like bottled rubies beneath the light, and I turned it thoughtfully before taking a measured sip.

"Not merely one planet," I said at last, my gaze drifting toward the distant windows beyond which Soto'lok Winda'nia slumbered beneath its star-kissed veil. "A system. An entire constellation of opportunities waiting to be awakened."

"There are many barren worlds throughout these regions," I continued, my ghostly pale hand gesturing to the holoscreen, "worlds that could sustain life, commerce, and civilization with the proper guidance. With the exception of Veslas Vivdoria, most are merely considerations. Even this world, Soto'lok Winda'nia, conceals dark secrets and lingering nightmares; scars left behind by the careless mishandling of science and ambition."

I paused, studying the crimson depths of my glass before meeting her eyes once more. "My predecessors worshiped isolation. They built walls around possibility and called it wisdom. I wish to break that mold. With your knowledge and the resources of House Blackwood, I believe we can accomplish something meaningful. We can bring life where there is none, opportunity where there is despair, and ensure that forgotten worlds need not remain forgotten forever."​

 

[Liin Terallo]

For several moments, I simply continued eating while I considered his proposal. It seemed almost unfair to allow such remarkable food to grow cold while discussing matters that might shape entire worlds. I selected another small portion from one of the unfamiliar dishes nearest to me, taking care not to rush. Every bite revealed another carefully balanced combination of flavors, each one distinct without ever competing with the others. Whoever had prepared this banquet possessed the same quiet precision that I admired in good science. Nothing existed merely for spectacle. Everything had been chosen because it belonged. I found myself appreciating that far more than the extravagance of the meal itself. After another measured sip of the wine, I allowed the warmth of it to linger for a moment before finally setting the glass gently upon the table.

"That is an ambitious vision," I said at last, my attention returning to the holographic constellation suspended before us. Most people spoke about improving a single colony or restoring one damaged ecosystem. Mister Blackwood was speaking about awakening entire systems, about creating opportunities where maps currently showed little more than empty stars. My eyes followed the slowly rotating worlds as they drifted through the projection. "I understand the appeal."

A faint smile found it's way onto my face almost without permission. There had been a time when a conversation like this would have consumed every waking hour of my attention. It was, in many respects, why I had become a bioscientist in the first place. Life had always fascinated me. Not merely as something that existed, but as something that adapted. I had devoted years to understanding how barren landscapes slowly welcomed forests, how fragile ecosystems learned to sustain themselves, and how a single carefully introduced organism could, over time, reshape an entire environment without overwhelming it. There were few scientific challenges that I found more beautiful than watching a world learn how to live.

"Helping a dead world breathe again," I said softly, still watching the stars, "is one of the most remarkable things science can attempt." The words lingered for a moment before the familiar weight of reality settled quietly back upon them. "Unfortunately..." My hands folded loosely together before me. "My methods are not infinitely scalable."

I looked back toward him, my expression calm despite the disappointment that accompanied the admission. "The biomolecules that made my research possible cannot simply be manufactured through conventional means. Their source is exceptionally rare." I hesitated only briefly before continuing. "And presently inaccessible." At least to me. And I did not need to name the world. I rarely did. "The planet where those biomolecules originate remains under foreign occupation." My voice remained steady, though noticeably quieter now. "Everything that I still possess was preserved before that happened. My remaining supply is sufficient for continued research, for carefully chosen restoration projects, perhaps even for demonstrating what the technology is capable of. But it is not enough to terraform an entire constellation of worlds."

For a few moments I simply regarded the holographic systems turning silently before us. "I wish that my answer was different."

Silence settled comfortably between us. It wasn't awkward. It simply gave both of us room to think.

His earlier words returned to me then. My predecessors worshiped isolation. They built walls around possibility and called it wisdom.

Without realizing it, my gaze drifted downward into the deep crimson of the wine resting quietly within my glass. "Walls are complicated things." A small smile touched my lips, though it carried more reflection than amusement. "They protect us from the dangers outside. But they also make it difficult for anyone to reach us." I paused, surprised by the direction my own thoughts had taken. "I've spent rather a long time building a few of my own." It was not a confession I would normally offer. Even hearing the words aloud felt strangely unfamiliar. My emotional barriers had become so much a part of me over the years that I rarely acknowledged they were there at all. Yet sitting here, in this ancient hall surrounded by history and silence, the observation felt unexpectedly honest.

"My world..." I began quietly, "...did not always live behind walls." I rested my hands lightly against the edge of the table. "We welcomed researchers. Merchants. Investors. New ideas. We believed that openness made us stronger. I believed it." My expression softened, though only slightly. "I encouraged others to take an interest in my home. I spoke proudly about our work, our discoveries, and what we had accomplished. At the time, I believed that sharing knowledge was one of the greatest services I could offer both New Cov and the galaxy. Yet I had never imagined that they would decide to stay." The sentence hung between us with a weight that required no further explanation. "I sometimes wonder whether I helped invite what followed." My voice carried the lingering uncertainty that accompanied regret. "People have told me that the occupation was never my fault." A faint smile appeared before fading almost immediately. "Some days I even manage to believe them." My attention then returned to the constellation. "So I understand why your predecessors built walls. Fear has a remarkable talent for disguising itself as wisdom."

For a moment I simply watched the stars continue their endless rotation. "But I don't believe isolation is the answer either." I gestured gently toward the projection between us. "The galaxy has always moved forward because people chose to share knowledge rather than bury it. Every discovery worth preserving has eventually belonged to more than the person who first uncovered it."

When I finally looked back toward Mister Blackwood, my expression had settled once again into its familiar calm. "If your intention is truly to help forgotten worlds flourish rather than to simply exploit them..." I said thoughtfully, "...then I believe we're beginning from the same philosophy." A warmer smile appeared, that was small but genuine. "The question, I think; is not whether these worlds deserve that opportunity." My eyes briefly returned to the stars. "It is whether we can accomplish it responsibly with the resources that remain available to us."

There was no simple answer to that question. But then, the most worthwhile scientific questions rarely offered one.

Tag: Malachi Blackwood

 

[Malachi Blackwood]

Beneath the Endless Constellation

[]

A Procissão dos Que Não Foram Chorados

Tags --> Liin Terallo
​

I observed Miss Terallo in thoughtful silence as she spoke, the soft cadence of her voice mingling with the distant murmur of the estate and the restless sighs of the night beyond its ancient walls.

I knew the tale of New Cov well enough, knew the accusations, the grievances, and the bitter histories that clung to her name like frost upon a gravestone.

Whether New Cov had been stolen from Miss Terallo or merely claimed by those who believed themselves justified depended greatly upon the eyes through which one viewed the matter.

Yet long before this gathering, before candlelight and conversation had brought us together beneath the shadowed heavens of Soto'lok Winda'nia, I had already chosen my position.

The currents of fate and reason alike had drawn me to her side.

"Do not hold yourself responsible for New Cov," I said quietly. "The galaxy is flooded with short-sighted individuals who prey upon the achievements of others because they mistake envy for virtue and entitlement for justice. They seize what they did not build, then convince themselves they were owed it all along. Such people have existed since the first fires of civilization, and they shall exist long after the last star fades."

For a moment I allowed the silence to settle between us, heavy and contemplative as dust upon an ancient reliquary.

Then I rose from my chair, deciding these discussions would be better served for another evening, when time and circumstance would permit a deeper examination of old wounds and prosperous futures.

Extending a hand toward the corridor beyond, I offered a faint smile.

"For now, perhaps something more pleasant. A tour of the estate, a history lesson, and a view, a real view of Soto'lok Winda'nia from a different angle."

My gaze drifted toward the vast windows where the world beyond stretched beneath the watchful stars, beautiful and mournful in equal measure.

"Everything you will see out there is also a warning," I continued. "This is the outcome we seek to avoid. Not through fear, nor through blind reverence of the past, but through caution and awareness."

I grabbed my cane from its cradle resting against the table, testing its weight as one tests the waters before stepping in.

"Science must never be allowed to falter as it did for those who came before my kin many centuries ago. Their ignorance illuminated the heavens, while misplaced trust and false certainty invited ruin into their homes. The dead cities of this world still whisper that lesson to those willing to listen."

I raised a finger, my pale skin reflecting like a ghost caught in candlelight, adding not as a tale to induce fear, but as a tragic realization, "And the dead themselves, centuries of restlessness only continues to fuel the dangers they present on Soto'lok Winda'nia."​

 

[Liin Terallo]

For a long moment, I simply sat there. The candles burned steadily between us while the last traces of the meal lingered upon the table. I found myself turning his words over with the same care I reserved for difficult research; examining them from every angle before deciding whether they could withstand scrutiny. "Do not hold yourself responsible for New Cov." It was a kind thing to say. Far kinder than I had expected. My eyes lowered briefly to the stem of my wine glass, my fingertips resting lightly against the crystal. "I wish," I admitted quietly, "that it were as simple as deciding not to." A faint smile appeared that was gentle but undeniably sad. "I know that there were many people involved. Governments. Corporations. Military planners. Individuals with ambitions far greater than my own."

I lifted my gaze again to meet his. "Logically, I understand that no single person could have prevented what happened. But guilt has never been especially interested in logic." The words escaped almost as an observation rather than a confession. "I spent years telling the galaxy what New Cov had accomplished. I introduced people to our discoveries because I believed knowledge became more valuable when it was shared." My smile faded slightly. "Now I sometimes wonder whether every presentation, every publication and every invitation simply painted another mark upon a map."

I fell silent again. There had once been a time when those thoughts kept me awake almost every night. They no longer possessed quite the same power over me, but neither had they disappeared. They had simply become quieter companions.

"I don't think the occupation was my fault," I said at last. That admission surprised even me. "But..." My fingers unconsciously folded together. "...I do believe that I was naïve enough to make it easier." I let that thought remain where it was. "I've found that there's an important distinction between blame and responsibility." My attention drifted briefly toward the windows overlooking the darkness beyond. "I may not deserve the first." A small breath escaped me. "But I intend to accept the second." Until New Cov stood free again, I suspected I always would.

His invitation gently drew my thoughts away from places that they had visited too often. I followed his gesture toward the corridor before rising from my chair, smoothing the folds of my skirt almost absentmindedly. "I would like that." A warmer smile found it's way onto my face. "I've already discovered that your estate rewards curiosity. And history has an unfortunate habit of becoming one of my favorite distractions."

The little biomass creature chose that precise moment to emerge from beneath the edge of the tablecloth, stretching lazily before fluttering onto my shoulder with an indignant little chirp, as though reminding both of us that it intended to accompany the tour as well.

I couldn't help but laugh softly. "It would appear that I won't be exploring alone."

As we began walking from the banquet hall, my attention naturally wandered across the ancient stonework surrounding us. Every corridor seemed to carry the accumulated weight of centuries. Every carved arch and weathered pillar hinted at generations who had once believed their own civilization would endure forever.

When Mister Blackwood spoke of dead cities and science that had invited catastrophe, my curiosity immediately displaced whatever melancholy still lingered within me.

I looked toward him thoughtfully. "Most civilizations imagine themselves immune to history," I said quietly. "Scientists perhaps more than most." A faint smile touched the corner of my mouth. "We can become so focused on asking whether something can be accomplished that we sometimes forget to ask whether it should."

My eyes lifted toward the ancient halls surrounding us. "I think I'd like to hear their story."

Tag: Malachi Blackwood

 

[Malachi Blackwood]

Beneath the Endless Constellation

[]

A Procissão dos Que Não Foram Chorados

Tags --> Liin Terallo

I knew the tragic fall of Soto’lok Winda’nia was not a tale that could be judged by a single name, a single hand, or a single blade.

The ruin of this world had also been caught in the endless web of blame and responsibility, a cruel game played by those who had long since vanished into the forgotten crypts of history. The architects of its suffering, the mysterious female Sith, the scientists, and the Sith Lord who sought to carve their names into eternity were all gone now.

Only their legacy remained, etched into the soil, whispered through the wind, and carved into the haunted surface of Soto’lok Winda’nia like a scar that refused to heal.

I led Miss Terallo through the silent halls of my ancestral estate until we reached one of the grand balconies overlooking the horrors below, where the mist rolled across the land like the breath of a dying hero.

I rested my hands upon the cold stone railing and gazed upon the broken world beneath us.

“Soto’lok Winda’nia was once a thriving civilization,” I said, my voice carrying through the ancient air. “A world of prosperity, of culture, of ambition. Its people believed they had built something eternal. They believed their cities, their achievements, and their future were protected from the darkness that lurked beyond the stars.”

I slowly lowered myself onto the balcony railing, straddling the ancient stone as my gaze remained fixed upon the distant lands.

“But they thought they were safe.” A bitter silence followed before I continued. “Until the Sith turned their sights upon this world. The citizens of Soto’lok Winda’nia became unwilling pawns in a game of one Sith Lord’s desperate attempt to cheat death and claim immortality."

I sighed slightly. "Through forbidden experiments and twisted ambition, they unleashed what became known as the Blackwing Virus, or simply The Sickness , using the people of this planet as test subjects in their search for eternal existence.”

I extended a single finger toward two slumbering figures that stood motionless in the distance, their corrupted forms hidden beneath the pale glow of the eternal twilight. “And that,” I whispered, “is the product of failed science mingled with ambition.”

My eyes remained upon the creatures that wandered the remnants of a civilization that had once known laughter, music, and peace.

“For centuries, my Bloodline and my House have curbed their numbers. Not out of fear, but out of respect for what Soto’lok Winda’nia once was. These beings were once people, Chiss, and other species; and despite what they have become, I will not allow their existence to be erased entirely.”

I paused, my expression darkening. “Sadly, their numbers seem infinite. Yet they leave us untouched.”

I turned my gaze toward Miss Terallo, the faint reflection of the ruined world shimmering within my eyes. “Do you know why?” I asked quietly, allowing the question to linger in the cold air between us. “Because we are just as undead as they are.”

A faint, humorless smile crossed my face. “The dead do not consume the dead.” I looked back upon Soto’lok Winda’nia, a kingdom of ghosts trapped between memory and oblivion.

“Perhaps that is the greatest tragedy of this world. Not that death came for them…but that those who caused it believed they could escape it.”
​

 

[Liin Terallo]

For several long moments, I simply stood beside him in silence. The mist drifted across the ruined landscape below with almost unsettling grace, softening broken towers and forgotten streets until the world seemed less abandoned than asleep. Had he not spoken, I might have mistaken it for nothing more than another ancient civilization surrendered to time.

Then my eyes settled upon the distant figures. They stood unnaturally still. Watching. I followed the direction of Mister Blackwood's gesture before listening to his explanation without interruption. My attention remained fixed upon the ruined city below, though my thoughts had already begun assembling the implications long before he reached his conclusion. The Blackwing Virus. That name itself was familiar enough to make my stomach tighten. I had read fragments over the years. Contradictory reports. Half-complete research recovered from archives that never seemed to agree with one another. Most dismissed them as little more than cautionary tales surrounding Sith experimentation. Standing here; they no longer felt like stories.

When he finally revealed the truth, my eyes slowly left the ruined streets and settled upon him. "You are..." The words escaped almost automatically. "...undead." For the first time since arriving on Soto'lok Winda'nia, I became acutely aware of my own heartbeat. And it seemed strangely loud.

The little biomass creature upon my shoulder tucked itself closer against my neck, giving a tiny questioning chirp before peering cautiously toward the landscape below. It understood nothing of viruses or history, only that something beyond the estate made every instinct it possessed uncomfortable.

Instinctively, I rested two fingers against it's back. "I'm beginning to think," I said softly, "that the walls surrounding your estate are considerably more important than I'd first imagined." A faint smile touched my lips before fading again. "I suppose that that also means that my companion and I are presently among the very few living creatures on this entire world."

I looked once more toward the statuesque figures below. "I won't be wandering beyond the estate unaccompanied." That much seemed less like a promise than simple common sense.

Silence settled again while I considered everything he had shared. "I've spent most of my career studying how life adapts." My gaze remained upon the ruined world. "How ecosystems recover. How damaged environments slowly learn to sustain themselves again. But this..." I shook my head gently. "...this isn't merely an environmental problem. It is an ecological one." I gestured quietly towards the dead city below. "If new life takes root while these....former citizens remain as they are..." I hesitated over the wording. "...then every restored ecosystem immediately becomes a food source." The realization carried all the uncomfortable elegance of a completed equation.

"Terraforming could still succeed." I folded my hands together as the possibilities continued arranging themselves inside my thoughts. "But every stage would require protection long enough for those ecosystems to become self-sustaining." I looked towards him again. "Otherwise every early success would simply be consumed before it had the opportunity to establish itself."

For a few moments I said nothing more. Then another thought quietly surfaced. "I understand something else now." My voice had become noticeably softer. "You had said that your predecessors sought to escape death." I watched the distant silhouettes moving beneath the mist. "I have performed experiments on a sentient subject before." A brief smile touched the corner of my mouth. "It was on myself." I glanced down at my own hands. "I never sought immortality." That idea had never appealed to me. "I had only wanted to narrow the distance between myself and the Force Wizards who so often dismissed people like me as....lesser." That admission came without bitterness. "It seemed unfair that the galaxy's greatest decisions were so often made by people gifted with abilities the rest of us could never hope to possess." My eyes lifted once more. "So I tried to level the playing field. I had accepted the risks because they were mine to accept." I looked back toward the ruined world stretching beneath us. "That is the difference. My experiments were a choice." My subjects gave consent because there only ever was one."

I allowed the words to settle before meeting Mister Blackwood's gaze. "What happened here..." I slowly shook my head. "...was never science. It was ambition that stopped asking for permission."

Tag: Malachi Blackwood

 

[Malachi Blackwood]

Beneath the Endless Constellation

[]

A Procissão dos Que Não Foram Chorados

Tags --> Liin Terallo
​

The corners of my mouth curved into a faint, melancholy smile as I listened to her words drift between us. For a long moment I said nothing. The mists below rolled like spectral tides across the ancient bones of the valley, concealing horrors and histories alike beneath their pale shroud.

"Miss Terallo," I finally said, my voice carrying the measured cadence of a man who had spent too many years conversing with ghosts, "you need not concern yourself with your safety while within my domain. You are quite safe here."

My gaze wandered toward the distant pathways winding through the estate's sprawling grounds. "And should curiosity move you to wander beyond the manor's immediate embrace, you would not walk alone. The Wardens of the First Hunger would accompany you."

The title lingered in the air like an old curse.

"They are ancient things, loyal things. Their appearance may inspire discomfort in the uninitiated, but they have guarded these lands longer than many civilizations have endured. They know every stone, every shadow, every secret path hidden beneath these mists."

As I spoke, my attention drifted to the small creature nestled against her shoulder. The diminutive thing gave a contented chirp before tucking its narrow head into the crook of her neck, settling there with surprising affection.

A quiet laugh escaped me, brief and genuine, before vanishing once more beneath my usual composure. "Curious little beast," I remarked. "Far more trusting than most of its kind." My eyes lingered upon it for a moment.

"Though I suppose that is fitting. Much of what sustains this estate comes from unique and troubled sources. But more on that and what we are later."

Then my expression darkened once more as I returned to the substance of her confession. "And yes...I believe I understand the distinction you are making." My gaze settled upon the spectral silhouettes moving beneath the mist below.

"Choice is the sacred boundary that separates sacrifice from violation. You altered yourself and accepted the consequences because they belonged solely to you. The architects of this place sought something different.

They wished to transcend mortality, but in doing so they ceased viewing others as individuals capable of consent. They became convinced that their vision justified every trespass."

I placed my hands, palms flat, on the railing. "That is the tragedy repeated throughout the ages, whether among Sith alchemists, Force cults, or the hidden scholars of forgotten worlds. The moment ambition convinces itself that permission is unnecessary, knowledge ceases to be enlightenment and becomes predation.

What happened here was not the pursuit of truth. It was hunger masquerading as wisdom, and hunger, when left unchecked, eventually devours everything, including the dream that birthed it."​

 

[Liin Terallo]

For a moment, my attention followed his toward the little creature nestled comfortably against my shoulder.

It had apparently decided that the conversation had become sufficiently serious to warrant remaining exactly where it was. Its tiny claws found a familiar place in the fabric of my blazer while its tail curled comfortably around the back of my shoulder, utterly unconcerned with the ancient horrors surrounding us.

A small smile found its way onto my face. "He is rather unusual," I admitted.

At the sound of my voice, the little biomass lifted his head, looked first toward Mister Blackwood, then up at me, before answering with a quiet, questioning chirp that somehow sounded remarkably conversational.

"I received him from Mister Usher some time ago." Absentmindedly, I ran two fingers beneath his chin, earning another contented chirrup. "He was once part of a much larger biomass collective. A hive mind, in the broadest sense." I considered the wording carefully. "Mr. Usher separated him from that collective and allowed him to develop an individual identity of his own." My eyes settled briefly upon the little creature. "He still shares a connection with the Hive, but no longer depends upon it to decide who he is."

I found myself smiling a little more warmly. "I was originally meant to study him." That had been the entire purpose. A unique biological organism. One that changes form to match what it consumes. It was an unprecedented opportunity to examine the development of individuality within a formerly collective intelligence. "It didn't remain purely academic for very long."

The little creature responded by nudging gently against the side of my neck, as though objecting to being described as a research subject.

"I know," I murmured softly. I've rather failed at maintaining professional distance." That admission was almost embarrassing. Scientists were supposed to observe, not become attached. Yet somewhere between laboratory notes, long hyperspace journeys and too many close calls, that distinction had quietly disappeared. "He has accompanied me through a great deal." My smile softened. "There have been bounty hunters." More of them than I cared to count. "People who believed that kidnapping me would be more profitable than speaking with me." Others who had wanted my research instead of my cooperation. "He's warned me more than once. And on at least two occasions..." My eyes drifted toward him again. "...I'm reasonably certain that he saved my life."

The little biomass chirped proudly.

I couldn't help but laugh. "I believe that he agrees with that assessment."

For a few quiet moments I simply rested my hand lightly against his back. "I've spent years becoming increasingly cautious about the people that I allow close to me." The words came more quietly now. "Trust has become..." I searched for the right phrase. "...a rather deliberate decision."

My gaze wandered briefly across the mist-covered landscape before returning to Mister Blackwood. "But somehow....he never asked for it. He simply stayed."

The little creature blinked up at me before curling comfortably against my shoulder once again, entirely satisfied with the arrangement.

"I sometimes think that he's the only companion I've ever had who has never wanted anything from me except that I remain alive. And I suspect that that says as much about me as it does about him."

Tag: Malachi Blackwood

 

[Malachi Blackwood]

Beneath the Endless Constellation

[]

A Procissão dos Que Não Foram Chorados

Tags --> Liin Terallo
​

I watched the diminutive thing upon her shoulder with a fascination I ordinarily reserved for forbidden relics and half-deciphered grimoires dredged from forgotten occult sepulchers.

There was something profoundly unsettling in its simplicity. Amid a galaxy of treachery, occult engines, and hungering spirits that wore the masks of gods, the creature possessed neither ambition nor deception.

It merely was.

The soft chirping echoed through the mist like notes from some tiny woodland familiar summoned from an older age, before hyperspace lanes scarred the stars and before men convinced themselves they had mastered the darkness.

As she spoke of hive minds and severed collectivities, I found my thoughts wandering to ancient Force sects that believed individuality itself was a sacred heresy against the cosmic whole. To tear a single consciousness free from such a gestalt and allow it to become its own soul; there was a strange holiness in that act.

A strange blasphemy as well.

The finest mysteries often walked hand in hand with both.

I lowered my gaze for a moment, feeling the familiar weight of old ghosts pressing against the edges of thought. In all my years, I had encountered countless beings who professed loyalty, affection, even devotion.

Most desired power, knowledge, protection, or absolution.

Every bond concealed a transaction somewhere beneath its surface. Yet as I listened to her speak of the little creature that had simply remained, through hunters and bloodshed and the slow erosion of trust, I felt an ache stir within me like the fluttering wings of a raven trapped inside a mausoleum.

The biomass had chosen no creed, sought no reward, demanded no sacrifice upon an altar. It had merely stayed beside her in defiance of a cold and predatory universe.

"Then perhaps," I said quietly, my voice nearly swallowed by the fog-shrouded wilderness around us, "the creature understands a truth that wiser beings often forget." My eyes lingered upon the contented familiar curled against her shoulder.

"Love, loyalty, friendship, whatever name one gives such things, are most pure when they cease to be bargains."

A faint smile touched my lips, though sorrow lingered behind it. "Ancient Sith Lords would have called that weakness. Which is precisely why I suspect they feared it."

 

[Liin Terallo]

I studied Mister Blackwood's expression for a moment, more intrigued by his words than unsettled by them. Ancient Sith Lords. The phrase carried a weight that I understood intellectually, even if I lacked the personal experience to give it meaning. I knew the stories. Most beings in the galaxy did. Tales of conquest, destruction, and those who had sought to bend the Force itself toward their own ambitions. But stories were not the same as understanding.

"I find that... curious," I admitted quietly. My fingers continued their absentminded movement along the little biomass curled against my shoulder, the creature seemingly content to be the center of a philosophical discussion it could not possibly understand. "...Curious that they would consider such things weakness."

My gaze moved briefly toward the fog-covered wilderness around us before returning to him. "I have spent much of my life studying systems of power. Governments. Organizations. Societies." I paused, considering my words carefully. "And I have learned that loyalty is rarely simple. It cannot be manufactured. It cannot be demanded indefinitely. It has to be earned."

The little creature shifted slightly against me, as though agreeing with the assessment.

"What I find difficult to understand is why someone would fear something that must be freely given. I understand fearing an enemy's weapon. I understand fearing knowledge that could be used against you. I understand fearing a person who has the ability to destroy you." My eyes lowered briefly. "But loyalty?" A faint crease formed between my brows. "Wouldn't someone powerful want others who would stand beside them willingly? Not because they were afraid, or because they had been controlled, but because they believed in the same purpose?"

I looked down at the little creature again. "He could have remained with his collective. He could have followed the instincts and desires of thousands of others like him." A small smile touched my lips. "Instead, he chose something else. Not because he was compelled to. Not because he gained anything from it. He simply decided that this was where he belonged."

I looked back to Mister Blackwood. "Perhaps that is what they feared." That thought lingered with me for a moment. "Not loyalty itself. But the fact that loyalty cannot be taken. Only offered. And anything that cannot be controlled must be very frightening to those who believe control is the only path to power."

Tag: Malachi Blackwood

 

[Malachi Blackwood]

Beneath the Endless Constellation

[]

A Procissão dos Que Não Foram Chorados

Tags --> Liin Terallo
​

I inclined my head toward Miss Terallo and motioned for her to follow as we moved through the dim corridors of the estate, the ancient stones seeming to drink the light from the lamps set into the walls.

Her words lingered in the air like the final notes of a funeral hymn.

{Perhaps that is what they feared. Not loyalty itself. But the fact that loyalty cannot be taken. Only offered. And anything that cannot be controlled must be very frightening to those who believe control is the only path to power.}

A low chuckle escaped me, though there was little amusement within it. "Yes," I responded, my voice carrying through the shadows. "That is the exact reason this planet festers in turmoil. Fear. Not fear of enemies, nor war, nor death itself. Fear of losing power through mortal skins destined to wither and rot.

They clutch at authority as though it were immortality, believing that if every soul bends to their will, they can somehow escape the fate waiting beneath their flesh."

I shook my head slowly. "But loyalty offered freely possesses a strength no chain can ever rival, and that truth terrifies those who have built their thrones upon coercion."

I halted my steps before a towering mechanical door wrought from blackened durasteel and tarnished bronze. With a hiss of ancient servos and the groan of machinery older than many civilizations, the barrier parted down its center.

Beyond it lay the estate's garden, hidden from the poisoned world outside like a forgotten sanctuary preserved within a crypt. Pale flowers swayed beneath silver lanterns, and dark-leafed trees whispered softly beneath the evening breeze.

Turning toward Miss Terallo, I extended a hand toward the opening. "Come," I said. "Not everything on this planet is dead, dying, or something torn from a horror holovid."

The scent of blooming night-flowers drifted through the doorway, carrying a sweetness rare upon this world. "There is beauty here. It is simply forced to survive in the shadows, hidden away from those who would smother it beneath their fear. Beauty, like loyalty, cannot be commanded into existence. It endures because it chooses to."

 

[Liin Terallo]

For a moment, I simply stood in the doorway. The contrast was so complete that my mind required several seconds to reconcile what my eyes were seeing. Beyond the heavy durasteel doors lay a garden that seemed almost impossible against everything I had witnessed since arriving on Soto'lok Winda'nia. The poisoned skies remained beyond the estate walls. The haunted cities still slept beneath their endless veil of mist. Yet here there was life.

A quiet breath escaped me before I had even realized that I had taken it. My eyes wandered slowly across the sanctuary, lingering not upon any single flower, but upon the relationships between them. The arrangement of the trees. The density of the undergrowth. The subtle variations in leaf colour that hinted at differences in nutrient availability. The gentle movement of pollen drifting through the evening air. It was impossible for me not to notice such things. Healthy ecosystems always announced themselves through countless small conversations taking place between organisms.

The little biomass upon my shoulder chirped brightly, lifting its head from where it had been nestled against my neck. It's tiny claws shifted excitedly against the fabric of my jacket as it leaned forward, clearly just as captivated by the unfamiliar abundance surrounding us.

A genuine smile found it's way onto my face. "It is beautiful." The words came almost as a whisper. "I don't think that I've ever appreciated a garden quite this much."

I stepped forward slowly, almost instinctively lowering my pace as though entering a laboratory where every specimen deserved respect. My gaze settled briefly upon the soil beneath the nearest flowering plants before drifting toward the roots disappearing beneath carefully tended beds. "I suspect," I said with a quiet laugh, "that most visitors admire the flowers." My attention had already moved downward again. "Yet I find myself wondering what lies beneath them." There was no embarrassment in me admitting it. After all, I had never claimed to be particularly normal.

"Soil has a remarkable memory," I continued thoughtfully. "It records everything that happens to it. Changes in chemistry. Microbial communities. Moisture cycles. Even periods of stress." I looked up again, smiling apologetically. "I realize that that probably sounds terribly unromantic."

The little creature fluttered from my shoulder to perch upon the edge of a nearby stone planter, sniffing curiously at one of the pale blossoms before apparently deciding it was not edible.

I couldn't help but smile at that. "If you'll permit it," I continued, "I'd very much like to collect a few samples while I'm here." My eyes returned to the rich earth beneath the nearest tree. "Not simply from the surface." I knelt slightly, studying the ground without disturbing it. "The upper layers only tell part of the story. The soil surrounding the deeper roots is often far more revealing. That's where nutrient exchange becomes most interesting, and where many of the microbial relationships that sustain mature plants truly begin."

I glanced down at my hands before laughing softly at myself. "Although..." I straightened again with an expression of mild amusement. "...I appear to have become slightly overenthusiastic." I lifted my empty hands. "My proper field gloves are still packed away with the rest of my luggage. I suppose that even scientists occasionally become so distracted by an interesting ecosystem that they forget the practicalities."

My attention drifted back across the garden once more, lingering on the quiet harmony of life flourishing against impossible odds. "It really is extraordinary," I said softly. "to think that something like this continues to grow while the world beyond these walls has forgotten how."

For a long while after that, I simply admired it in silence. Not because I had run out of questions. But because sometimes the most respectful thing a scientist can do is to simply observe before reaching for the sample container.

Tag: Malachi Blackwood

 

[Malachi Blackwood]

Beneath the Endless Constellation

[]

A Procissão dos Que Não Foram Chorados

Tags --> Liin Terallo
​

The words settled over the garden like drifting petals upon a forgotten alcove, and I listened in silence as my gaze wandered through the profusion of growth that surrounded us.

There was an undeniable sincerity in the scholar's fascination, a reverence for hidden systems and unseen symbioses that reminded me of ancient alchemists who sought enlightenment in the veins of roots and the language of spores.

The garden breathed around us in slow, spectral rhythms, and for a fleeting moment I could almost imagine the world beyond these walls erased entirely, leaving only this enclave of verdant persistence beneath indifferent stars. Yet where others saw only life, I had long ago learned to recognize the shadows that accompanied it.

The Force itself whispered through every stem and petal, carrying secrets older than empires and cruelties subtler than any blade.

I reached toward a nearby blossom and carefully plucked a Murakami Orchid, its midnight-hued petals glimmering with an almost unnatural beauty beneath the garden's pale light. Holding it between my fingers, I regarded it with a faint, somber smile.

"Not all flowers and plants within this garden are safe," I said quietly. "In the pursuit of beauty, all flora is considered, whether it nourishes or poisons, heals or corrupts. Nature is rarely concerned with the distinctions we prefer to make."

My eyes lingered upon the orchid's dark elegance. "Even something as beautiful as this Murakami Orchid carries a lesson. Dark, exquisite, coveted beyond reason. Such things become obsessions. Desires. Causes worth sacrificing worlds for."

I slowly turned the flower in my hand before glancing toward the soil she had been studying.

"In many ways, this is the root cause of the state of this planet. Not malice alone, but the endless hunger to possess what mortals cannot achieve, no matter the cost."

Then I inclined my head respectfully toward her. "As for the soil, flora, and the secrets hidden among the deeper roots, I bow to your expertise. Some truths are better uncovered by those who know how to listen to the earth rather than command it."

 

[Liin Terallo]

For several moments, I simply watched the orchid resting between Mister Blackwood's fingers. It was undeniably beautiful. The sort of beauty that invited someone to reach for it before asking whether they should.

A thoughtful smile found my lips. "I've always found it interesting," I said quietly, "that some of the most dangerous organisms in nature devote so much energy toward appearing attractive." My gaze drifted over the surrounding garden before returning to the flower. "They do not threaten. They invite." That distinction seemed an important one. People were often the same way. However I have been fortunate enough to not fall for such a trap. The emotional barrier that I had built has ensured my safety in that regard.

The little biomass creature had resumed it's careful inspection of the garden, though it now regarded the orchid with considerably more suspicion than curiosity. Apparently it had reached the same conclusion.

A soft laugh escaped me as I observed it, very much amused. "I think that my companion has already decided not to sample your garden."

I looked once more toward the rich collection of plants surrounding us. "I am perhaps less intimidated than most visitors might be. My homeworld is much the same." For the first time in several minutes, my thoughts drifted back to New Cov. "The majority of our native flora evolved alongside biomolecules unlike those found anywhere else in the galaxy." My eyes wandered thoughtfully among the trees. "Many species developed extraordinarily aggressive defense mechanisms as a consequence. Potent toxins. Neuroactive spores. Carnivorous vines. Some plants react to movement. Others respond to changes in body chemistry. A few appear capable of rudimentary communication through chemical signalling." A faint smile touched my face. "Our cities were built beneath protective domes not because the atmosphere demanded it..." I paused briefly. "...but because the forests did."

I found myself remembering childhood lessons. Learning which leaves could blister exposed skin. Which flowers announced the presence of predators. Which vines should never be stepped over, no matter how harmless they appeared.

"Visitors often imagined New Cov to be a paradise. But the forests were always eager to correct that misunderstanding."

My gaze lowered naturally to the soil beneath our feet once more. "Living there taught me that dangerous ecosystems are not cruel." I knelt again, studying the earth without disturbing it. "They simply exist according to rules that deserve to be understood before they are challenged."

After a thoughtful pause, I looked back toward Mister Blackwood. "I suspect that is one reason I became interested in bioscience. " A warmer smile appeared. "People often ask why I study things capable of harming us."I gently brushed a loose strand of hair behind one ear. "The answer has always seemed rather simple." My eyes wandered across the flourishing sanctuary around us. "The more thoroughly that we understand something..." I looked once more toward the Murakami Orchid. "...the less often that we mistake it for evil."

For a moment, silence settled comfortably between us again. Then, almost as an afterthought, I smiled with quiet amusement. "Though I still intend to retrieve my gloves before I begin collecting samples." I glanced down at my bare hands. "For I've learned that confidence and unnecessary optimism are not quite the same thing."

Tag: Malachi Blackwood