Populate [GA + Friendly Explorers] The Stars Between Us | GA Populate of Resource Hex

[Bal Tal]

"Bah-Shi-Gan! AH-HAH!"

The pounding of feet and thumping of fists on chests could be heard even through the trees of Tython. There was little doubt that there was a group of people headed for the Jedi on their way to the Forge. A guttural war cry called out to announce their arrival, that this was no ordinary walk in the woods. The Forge was not undefended, it would seem, and that the rumors of the presence of Flesh Raiders was true.

A group of them, about a dozen, stood between the Jedi and the Forge. They were armed with clubs and barbed spears and jagged machetes. Each of them was thick in the chest, arms, and legs. They had mouths of sharp teeth, and their eyes were on protruding stalks out of the sides of their heads. Some of them had blasters in leather holsters, though none were brandishing these weapons. Most of them had deep scars that had scabbed over and become calloused, proud markings of battles won. All of them had fresh wounds, some of which were still bleeding. One of them had a spear head still stuck in their chest that they'd broken off, and just left there.

The largest of these Flesh Raiders had some kind of crown: The skull of one of his own kind, mounted upside down on the top of his head with leather straps holding it in place.

"Bah-Shi-Gan!" Two-Skull declared. His club was a large and wicked thing, full of spikes and jagged edges. Much of these spikes were teeth claimed either from enemies, or perhaps even his own mouth. He thumped his club's head on the ground as he stood before the Jedi, and gestured to the assembly of Flesh Raiders. He then gestured to the Jedi.

"Jed'aii - Re-Turn-Ners."

He pointed behind his warriors with his club, towards the Forge.

"Mo-Ko-Nan. Bah-Shi-Gan ot Jed'aii MOH-gawen!"

He pounded his chest at the Jedi, "Nu-Bop. Two-Skull! Two-Skull moh-gawen Bah-Shi-Gan ot Jed'aii, ak-AMI Mo-Ko-Nan!"

With his club, he pointed at all the Jedi in a circle gesture, "Jed'aii ech Moh-gawan?"

Whatever the Flesh Raider's intentions, ambushing and killing the Jedi right away was not it. This Flesh Raider was already known to the Jedi on Tython as being particularly curious, hanging around temples and watching and trading meat and skins for trinkets. Little was known about the modern Flesh Raider, or their language - Two-Skull seemed to be picking up Basic faster than the Jedi were comprehending his language. There was not a sense of malice, a sort of dark teasing. Rather, the Flesh Raiders were excited and eager, more like they were ready to play than ready to slaughter.

Aris Noble Razh Sho Everest Vale Reina Daival
Open to Objective I

 

[Bal Tal]

"This is pointless," Bal grunted. He sat in his seat on the shuttle to the surface of Tython, ignoring his assistants and watching his son, Raz Tal, chew on a hunk of meat he had been given as a toy. For Rakata children of this age, there wasn't much of a distinction between 'Play' and 'Eat.' It made socializing with children of other species difficult, but it had to be done. Mostly they would keep some kind of fence or playpen between the children and let them play in the same space, or give them space to roll a ball back and forth or something. Bal kept up appearances as a family man, but the truth was he had six children with four different mates, who each had different children with different partners. Raz wasn't even the youngest of them. Psychologists didn't even understand if play and socializing had an innate role in the development of Rakata children. After a thousand years of keeping his people in effectively zoos, the Republic - whatever its name was now - knew next to nothing about his people.

Not that they knew much, either.

"It's a good move, sir. The Jedi play a big role in the Alliance, it's smart to court their cooperation," his chief adviser, a Bothan woman named Zardu, assured him.

"Not that. I'll kiss all the Lightsabers I need to if it means the Jedi don't give me a dirty look when they see me in the Senate building. The Flesh Raiders," Bal said.

"How is it pointless? Your people are cousins!"

"Exactly! There hasn't been a Rakatan on Tython in twenty-five thousand years. That's twenty five millennia of divergence. Even if Rakatan culture wasn't completely forgotten, the amount they've changed in that time would make us unrecognizable to them. If I spoke Rakatan fluently, which I don't, they wouldn't understand a word. Sending me to negotiate with them is a futile gesture," he insisted.

"Listen, we have the Command Staff. They might recognize it."

"It's a fake. It's just a metal spear. The real Command Staffs were tools of the Dark Side used to control legions of slave soldiers."

"So don't tell the Flesh Raiders that."

"I'm not waving a metal pole at them in hopes the Flesh Raiders decide to listen to me in a language they don't speak."

"They're savages, if you shout loudly enough-"

"So were my people when the Republic took them in. Tython is their home now. Shaking a staff at them isn't going to convince them I'm some returned God. And don't look down on 'savages.' Just because they don't kill using blasters doesn't mean they don't know what they're doing."

"Yes, sir, sorry, sir."

Raz gave Zardu a gurgling shriek when she stepped too close to his playpen - and his meat-toy. She visibly shuddered, and took a step away from him. Their shuttle was landing now. Bal's nanny, a Kaleesh, managed to finagle him into his hover crib with only a minor laceration, one of many he'd given her since she'd started the job. He would not be parted from his meat-toy.

A member of his security detail - a surplus, even for a wealthy Senator, given how endangered the Rakatans were - handed Bal the Command Staff. He was to make a show of seeming like a Rakatan warlord, an official of his people, the first in a new line of leaders. He knew for a fact that most of the iconography on his outfit was ahistorical. But he doubted any but the most studious of the Jedi would even care, much less notice.

He stepped off the shuttle and into the Jedi Temple, with his retinue flanking him and his son at his side, feeling absolutely ridiculous. Even Raz's hover crib was covered in ridiculous Rakatan inspired scribbles. Bal had a hand in designing it all, it was all part of his Senatorial face. But it was still ridiculous, and felt foreign to him.

Raz began to scrape strips of meat off his toy and started to stuff them in his mouth. There was so little known about Rakatan child-rearing. Almost everything Bal had gone through had been based off of techniques derived for other, unrelated species. Bal wasn't even sure if he was supposed to feel a parental connection with his son. Did Raz feel any affection for Bal? Or was he just some little monster until he started to talk and comprehend?

Bal reached out to his son in the hover-crib as he gnawed on the meat. The boy looked up, but didn't make any indication of territoriality. Bal dared to touch the boy, rubbing Raz's elongated head. Not only did Raz not bite him, the boy leaned into it - although his focus did not break from his attempts to turn the hunk of meat and bone into as many pieces as he could manage. At the very least, Raz recognized Bal as being his father. Bal managed a smile.

He looked up as his procession stopped, and realized that he was not the only father having a moment with his son in the halls of the temple.

"Oh. Hello there, Master Jedi," Bal said to Caelan Valoren as he pulled his hand back, "I am Senator Bal Tal of Lehon. I am here to speak with the High Council."

 

[Alicio Organa]

Deep Space, aboard the Benefacto
En Route to Tython
- Ashley Nevermore - Open -​

Ever since he'd been a city-planner on Alderaan, Alicio had given each of his projects a deeply personal touch.

He wasn't one to sit back and observe, after setting things in motion. If he were asking the Defense Force to spread themselves thin across the Alliance, pathfinding and securing trade routes, he would be right there with them, doing whatever he could to help it run smoothly.

It was fortunate, then, that he could help. Finding the way ahead was easy, when one could glimpse the Future. He'd planted himself on the bridge of the Benefacto, a Republic-class cruiser acting as his escort, staring into space with wicked intensity. Every once in a while, he'd say a string of coordinates, and off the destroyer, and the small entourage of ships from the 10th Sector Armada, would rocket. Every few parsecs, they'd drop out of hyperspace, eject a buoy, and continue.

Leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for others to follow.

It was slow, unglamorous work. Picking their way around the Deep Core was tricky. There were plenty of dangerous space phenomena here before the known paths were disrupted. Gravitic waves, black holes, amorphous, shifting nebulae, the list went on. But now, with the familiar routes distorted and shifted... well, it paid to be cautious.

They had just placed their last buoy. Finally, the novelty of having the head of the Alliance lead them to Tython had worn off, replaced by routine as they engaged their hyperdrives for the last time. Alicio finally allowed himself to relax, letting his hand graze his forehead with some amount of fatigue. Rest couldn't come soon...

"Oh."

"Excellency?" The captain of the Benefacto frowned, a young, reedy man, looked up from his command chair.

"...Raise shields. Now."

There was stunned, disbelieving silence on the bridge. Plenty of the naval officers had their doubts about the Chancellor's abilities, but most had been dispelled on their journey. But telling them they were going to be under attack, when they were so close to their goal... well, it was a bit unbelievable. The captain quickly pondered how to break the news to the Supreme Chancellor that there was almost certainly not an attack coming in the middle of a jump, without losing his job.

"Sir? We're in hypersp-"

"Captain!" One of the officers below began frantically typing at his datapad. "Something's wrong! We're being pulled out-"

The Benefacto groaned violently as they were pulled from their path, erupting from hyperspace with dizzying abruptness. Before they could even think to raise shields, explosions rocked their hull, peppering the ship's armor. Mines. Officers began sounding off around the room, reeling from the escalation.

"The hyperdrive is damaged!

"Sensors reading... stars, at least a hundred fighters. Make and model... slapdash. Closing fast."

Alicio set his mouth, giving the captain a dark look. Pirates. "Prepare for combat, Captain. Send all available troops to the hangar bay." He turned away, headed towards the hangar himself with confident steps.

He wasn't one to sit back and observe.

 

[Mykel Dawson]

FALSE MESSIAH​

Along the Lesser Lantillian Route, a particularly sinister group of pirates have been exploiting the plight of the stranded, posing as GADF Navy on the frontier to swoop in and hijack haulers worth billions of credits. More concerning is the disappearance of the crews of these haulers, feared to be vented into deep space or sold in Hutt Space as slaves.

GADF and the NJO were finally alerted to this scheme as one hauler crew managed to send off a burst transmission before being captured, warning of these pirates. A new audacious operation has been launched to end the scourge of these pirates, aimed to bring down the entire vile enterprise in one fell swoop.

It begins with the GA playing their own game of knockoff with repurposed freighters. Operation Fool's Gold is a go!

Location: Heavy Cargo Freighter Auric Venture, Alliance frontier space at the Mid-Rim.
Objective (III): Stakeout (Pirate Hunting)
With: Jedi Knight Consular Kaldor Vexis (NPC), OPEN (DM for details before joining)

The interior of the freighter was dim, bathed in a soft crimson glow from emergency light strips. There was a constant buzzing as various sputtering systems continued to try and fail to draw upon inconsistent power. The air reeked of leaking coolant and ozone from loose sparking cables. The floor was littered with loose panels and debris. It was an absolute maze of ruin within the Auric Venture, and the ship looked little better on the outside, marred by scoring and gashes along the hull like a rancor had taken its claws to it. Several of its cargo crates were either missing or crumpled on their racks.

All the damage was consistent with a ship that had narrowly missed being sheared in half by a gravitic eddy in hyperspace, now limping along through deep space with barely functional shields. Four other such freighters now drifted in similar sorry states within the sector as bait.

In the engine room, Mykel stood over flickering console, Jedi Robes traded in for a dull grey flightsuit streaked with grease. His lightwhip was gone, a hydrospanner in its place on his utility belt. His identification badge read as Rayle McCoy, Systems Tech Second Grade.

While his identity was fake, his job was quite real, playing a careful balance between making the Venture look vulnerable but still functional enough to spin its systems up to full power if needed. The technopath barely referenced the display, reading and manipulating the various pathways of the ship's circuitry directly. The Venture, with its own onboard droid brain, was quite fussy as it did not like being held in such a fluctuating state at all.

Just a little longer, he would coo to the ship.

In all reality he wasn't sure exactly if or when anything would happen. There were five teams, meaning there was a good chance he wouldn't see action at all. It was all a game of chance.

Secretly, he wanted to win.

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

T Y T H O N
A S H L A​

It was not the High King of Midvinter that had returned to the ancient birthplace of the Order, but the orphan boy of seven without home or hope. It was not the fierce Warrior, the noble Lion, or the chivalrous Knight that trod these hallowed grounds, but the adoped son of Asha Seren, clad not in armour and armed not with cold steel but rather old robes of a bygone age and a lightsaber whose duty had long been fulfilled. He bore no sign or symbol of his homeworld this day, in honour of his humble beginnings.

He was a Jedi. Dubbed a Master by his peers at age 23. Made Grandmaster of the Silver Jedi Order at 25 — the second to ever bear that title, and bear it well he did, turning a splinter group of Jedi into the dominant force for good in the galaxy that would last for decades — a torch the Galactic Alliance would bear in their stead. He toppled Sith empires, fought alongside Mandalorian clans, and liberated countless worlds.

Old deeds. Old glories. He'd not come to relive them. Everyone from those days that mattered were either dead or missing.

Thurion lifted his gaze towards the heavens, seeing there the shattered remains of Ashla — the Twin-Moon of Light. For too long had Her sister Bogan laughed at her misfortune. She, not unlike himself, needed to heal. He could not bring back the fallen, or the lost. But this...

He closed his eyes, a build-up of howling wind and wintry chill enveloping his robed form, and by the time he opened them, he found himself on the cracked sphere, looking down at the beauty of Tython.

...This he could fix, and in the process, perhaps mend that festering wound in his heart. To bring back something good, in her memory.

Though broken and torn, the Moon of Ashla still radiated beauty and tranquility; a stark contrast to Her sister, whose darkness and gloom were so suffocating to the point of madness. Thurion knelt and buried his fingers in the white sand, suddenly overcome with emotion. Through touch, he felt the celestial's pain and anguish, crying out into an uncaring void. A lone tear fell upon the sand.

"Be with me," he spoke with eyes closed, pleading the spirits of dearly departed friends, colleagues, and comrades to stand with him one last time. "Do not forsake me, I beg of you; I am all that's left. Lend me your strength this final time, that I might set things right for once. Be with me."

OPEN​

 

[Nathan Bloodscrawl]

Wearing: Wild Knights Flight Suit

Flying: GIE/LN (Blue Color)

This was the closest Nathan had dared gotten next to Alicio Organa since they had toured a medical facility all those years ago.

He had said precisely one statement in earshot of the man who eventually became Chancellor. Just one, and no other. Had he known the man would be Chancellor he wouldn't have said anything.

Nathan had come aboard the vessel to help with ship defense in case it came under pirate attack. His experience with the Wild Knights in the fallen Trade League made some do a double take. It wasn't widely known in the NJO, his background as a fighter pilot in a special unit.

He had been asleep in assigned quarters, alone with his nightmares of his wife's death, the memories sloshing against those of Syd.

He had woke up after the ship was ripped from Hyperspace, followed by multiple impacts on the hull.

His experience assaulting starships told him what was going on. Mines.

A trap. Interdiction field had pulled them from Hyperspace more than likely.

He was out and in his armor in minutes, rushing to the Hangar with other pilots.

His fighter was so similar to an ordinary TIE Fighter in shape that it didn't draw much attention beyond its blue color with a white alliance starbird on the solar collection panels.

Internally, it was almost nothing like a TIE.

This one was a GIE. A Gravity Influenced Engine fighter. He hopped into the high tech fighter. It had taken him months to figure out. He powered up the systems, which tuned themselves to his preferences.

He needed to get out there now...

Nathan took off with a number of other fighters, and immediately targeted incoming mines still moving towards the hull, destroying them with the ship mounted electromagnetic plasma cannons before they could get any closer, on the lookout for enemy fighters. For now, preventing more damage to the ship was essential...

 

[Zaiya Ceti]

Objective One - Enroute to the Forge
Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x x x | Weapons: x x x | Companion: Domxite
Interacting with: Loomi

Zaiya's opal blue eyes shimmered with concern as Loomi spoke, the swirling colors across her skin shifting into softer hues of grey flecked bronze. Even with the Lovalla's mental shields in place, Zaiya could see how the Force around Loomi was thick with emotional resonance, painting her in muted hues, but still difficult to read clearly without intruding too much. Zaiya could sense that something was wrong, but Loomi's words didn't quite match the weight she felt. It wasn't the right time to press for answers, certainly not with everyone around, and especially not with the Fleshraider threat lurking somewhere nearby. Still, the concern settled deep within Zaiya's chest.

She stepped closer to Loomi, offering a gentle squeeze on her shoulder, a silent promise of support that was all she could give for now. Loomi's small smile eased her worry slightly, but the Lovalla Padawan was still concerned.

Zaiya took a quiet breath, trying to focus, to push aside the swirling mix of emotions that threatened to resonate too strongly with her own.

"So, are you planning to stay on Tython then?" she asked, keeping her voice light, the question a simple one, one that felt safe for the moment.

She caught the glance of the Jedi Knight leading them, motioning for them to stay close and stay alert. Zaiya nodded, her eyes flicking briefly toward the darkened path ahead. The Fleshraiders could strike at any moment, and she couldn't afford to get distracted. Either way, Zaiya could only hope that her friend would find the peace she needed, whether that came from returning to Tython or facing whatever troubled her head on,

For now, though, she settled for being there, quietly offering her strength in the small moments between them.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

ASHLA
​

Azurine Varek Thurion Heavenshield Reina Daival

The moon of Ashla had been broken. Shattered, scarred, and defiled.

The chunks that could be salvaged - great slabs of composite minerals that had rained down on Tython's surface or had been caught in its gravitational pull - had been stabilized. With the aid of a few carefully placed and precisely attuned gravity wells, the pieces of Ashla now fit together like a ragged puzzle.

It wasn't perfect. The surface was still jagged in some places, and it would be some time before the moon shaped itself into a cratered sphere again. Until then, artificial gravity would be their friend.

"Our task is to help the pieces of Ashla bond back to the surface of the moon. This will take time - and patience and connection - but it'll help to cleanse the darkness that lingers, and allow for the healing of Ashla."

Cora's gaze panned over the moon's white sands to the shadow of her sister, Bogan. It was said that long ago, Je'daii who moved too close to the light would be sent here to meditate with the darker moon in view. Her focus moved first to Reina, then to Azurine with a gentle smile.

In the near distance, a figure knelt. The Lion King of Midvinter, a Jedi of legend. Thurion Heavenshield was as much a myth as he was a man. Cora had heard stories of both his valor in battle and his love for his people and family. He was said to be a gentle giant, a man of humble nature with a kindly heart.

Blue eyes fluttered closed as her senses drifted into the Force, letting each ebb and flow carry her awareness.

"Azzie," she murmured. "You have a connection to this place. To him. I believe…"

When Cora next opened her eyes, they were fixed on the Zabrak. Her gaze was steady, but not intrusive. Kind, but knowing.

"I believe you'd be most suited to healing, here."

Whether she meant the healing of Ashla or the healing of Azurine, she did not specify. Still, Cora placed a hand on her friend's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Touch did not come easily to the blueblood, but she'd make exceptions where she could.

​

 

[Rel Ahn-Dross]

Mandalorian Space​

---

A series of alarms on the console sounded indicating failure. Try as he might the figure looming over the console was not successful. Frustration began to show on his features.

A Droid approached, its mechanical voice reaching out to him...

"Sir, according to calculations the reactor is operating at a thirty-seven percent capacity."​

Grunting an acknowledgement he attempted to run an override on the console, bypassing systems that were negligible or would straining the dying reactor to unacceptable limits. There was finally some success. He managed to activate the sensor arrays; a trivial system considering the ship was suspended dead in the black.

At least he wasn't blind anymore, Interdictors tended to have far reaching sensor arrays.

Turning his head towards the droids he'd have commanded...

"You stay here with me, the rest of you attend engineering. See what you can do to disable the interdiction fields."

The Bridge cleared, he was left with the single droid he'd commanded to remain.

He took a breath, the air was stale. Life support was operational but with extensive power drain was not operating at high efficiency. No matter, there was enough air to sustain one person indefinitely and a larger number for a lengthy period of time.

An alarm went off drawing his attention to a holographic screen that flickered with information. The sensors had picked up activity already. Republic Ships, it didn't take them long to begin moving in once the Clans had scattered...

Open​

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

Valery listened in silence, letting the words settle around them. She watched the way his hand met the stone, not as a stranger seeking comfort, but as one who had earned the right to touch it. One who belonged here. His voice held reverence without fragility — strength tempered by memory, by pain, by purpose.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of her lips — not born of amusement, but of certainty.

"That's exactly why I asked you here," she said, her voice low, warm, and unwavering. She took a step forward, so they stood nearly shoulder to shoulder, both framed by the dawnlight stretching across Tython's horizon. Her hands clasped in front of her now, and her eyes didn't waver from his.

"You don't see this place as just stone and walls. You see it for what it is — memory, meaning, responsibility. You feel the weight of history, but you don't let it anchor you. You carry it forward." She drew a slow breath, letting the words find their place.

"I want you to serve as the Temple's Warden, Caltin." She let the words hang there, unembellished, but full of intent.

"Not just its protector. Its voice. Its soul. You understand what this Temple is to us now — not just what it once was. That matters more than ever. We're rebuilding, yes. But we're also remembering. And I can't think of anyone better to help guide that balance." Her smile deepened just a touch.

"And I trust you to defend it with the same fire you've always carried."

A pause. Then, quieter — but no less sincere.

"Will you accept?"

Caltin Vanagor ​

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

RELIC OF A JEDI ON A RELIC OF A WORLD
TYTHON
AKAR KESH

For a long moment, Caltin didn’t move.


The wind rolled low through the highlands of Tython, tugging at the edges of his tunic (he hated cloaks, and would not wear them unless ceremonial “they itch like crazy”). The mountains, the landscape all painting the windows like a beautiful expensive picture, stood behind them — ancient, wounded, enduring. His gaze never left the horizon.


Warden.

He said the word like it had dust on it, like it had waited centuries to be spoken again.

I have never truthfully been one for titles. No shame in them, don’t get me wrong, but it’s like my time with one, I always felt like people listened to the “the title” and never truly to me, or anything I had to offer. It is probably why he rarely ever had put himself into consideration for a Council position anywhere, always feeling he was a better "leader" out in the field and not up in a tower. No shame to anyone who held the position it was just never truly for him.

His voice was steady, not defiant — just honest.

Not then. Not now.

He turned, slowly, to meet her eyes — not questioning, but measuring.

But this Temple... this world... it doesn’t need a name on a door.

He tapped his chest once, over his heart.

It needs someone who remembers, who gets it. Every Temple is important, to be sure, but this one… He clapped the stone one more time. This planet, Ashla really created something here. It is important to understand that.The weight of his words lingered in the air, as if the very stones of the Temple echoed his reverence. He turned back, his gaze softening, as though the ancient walls themselves whispered their silent agreement. Yes, this place is more than a name—it is a legacy, and will be again.

He looked back toward the mountains where the sun was beginning to break, casting golden light across the stone.

Thank you for the kind words. You’re right. I don’t see walls. I see oaths. Sacrifices. Lessons bought with blood and time. His jaw tightened. A memory passed behind his eyes.

I’ve buried friends in and from these halls. Saved lives in them. Bled for them. I know what this place means, and it would be my honor to help others understand this as well. Another pause — not out of doubt, but reflection. Then, he nodded once — solid and final, like a hammer against anvil. It was a look, a steely resolve he had not held in a long time, but the Grandmaster had seen it a few times on him in the past.

I may not be one for titles, but this one is different. So my answer is unequivocally Yes . I’ll gladly serve. It would be my privilege to.

He stepped forward, placing his palm fully on the temple wall now — not as a gesture of reverence, but of belonging. Not just to defend it. But to remind every soul who walks these halls why they were built in the first place.

Then he turned to her again, voice quiet but unshakable.

You have my fire. The Jedi always have. And now you have my word.A faint breath left him, somewhere between resolution and relief.

Let’s rebuild it right. Tapping his chest one more time, he offered a handshake to seal it.

Valery Noble • TAGS
[Text in Brackets is spoken on Comm-link] ~Like this is through the Force~​

 

[Vera Noble]

Tython

​

Tag: Everest Vale

​

Vera pressed on, boots crunching louder now as the trail narrowed and the brush thickened on either side. Her braid bounced behind her with each step, and she didn't bother hiding the grin spreading across her face. "Oh, heroic, huh?" she called back over her shoulder to Everest, voice bright with mischief. "I'll make sure they put it on the memorial: 'Devoured by a tree goblin. Went out swinging.'"

She laughed and used her lightsaber hilt to poke aside a stubborn branch that smacked right back into her. Still, she loved this. Being outside. Being free. She felt alive out here, like the world was breathing with her. Even if Mom had given them instructions about patrol routes and perimeter sweeps and "responsibility," Vera had every intention of making this into an adventure.

But then she stopped. Like someone had yanked the air from her lungs. Her foot caught mid-step, and her shoulders stiffened, eyes going distant. The world... shifted. She wasn't in the forest anymore — not entirely. For a heartbeat, everything felt too quiet. Like sound itself had taken a step back.

Then it came. Fire. Smoke curling through trees. Vera blinked hard, sucking in a sharp breath as the vision cut out as quickly as it came. She staggered a step forward, hand instinctively tightening around her saber hilt.

"…Something's ahead," she said, voice lower now, more serious.

Her eyes turned toward Everest, all playfulness gone — not in fear, but in focus.

"We're not alone out here."

​