Xian Xiao
Elementalist
The shuttle's engines died with a soft sigh as it touched down on the leveled stone of the cliffside courtyard. Salt-laden mist drifted across the slabs, curling around crates and sparse markers that indicated the landing zone. Xian stepped onto the cold surface, the scent of seaweed and ocean spray filling her lungs. The waves lapped rhythmically against the scattered islands below, a muted percussion that seemed to echo the ache in her chest.
Bastion was behind her, its ordered streets and familiar hums replaced by a horizon that stretched endlessly, broken only by cliffs and scattered foliage. Here, there were no crowds, no ceremonies, no expectations—only space to breathe, to remember, to grieve.
She let her travel pack fall from her shoulders, moving through the courtyard with the careful, fluid grace she had always cultivated. Yet the rhythm of her movements faltered under the weight of loss. Caelan… the king who had made her feel wanted, cherished, alive—gone. The thought pressed against her chest, relentless.
Xian closed her eyes, letting the wind tug at her hair and the salt air sting her skin. She had come here to find solitude, to allow herself the grief she had kept in check. And already, the planet seemed to offer it: vast, empty, and unjudging.
A gull cried somewhere in the distance. She drew a shaky breath, grounding herself in the present. Nothing could bring him back—only the slow passage of time and the rhythms of this new world.
The subtle shift in the air, a presence brushing past the edge of her senses, hinted at a lone traveler moving across the courtyard. She stayed still, letting them come to her.
Veyran Solis
Bastion was behind her, its ordered streets and familiar hums replaced by a horizon that stretched endlessly, broken only by cliffs and scattered foliage. Here, there were no crowds, no ceremonies, no expectations—only space to breathe, to remember, to grieve.
She let her travel pack fall from her shoulders, moving through the courtyard with the careful, fluid grace she had always cultivated. Yet the rhythm of her movements faltered under the weight of loss. Caelan… the king who had made her feel wanted, cherished, alive—gone. The thought pressed against her chest, relentless.
Xian closed her eyes, letting the wind tug at her hair and the salt air sting her skin. She had come here to find solitude, to allow herself the grief she had kept in check. And already, the planet seemed to offer it: vast, empty, and unjudging.
A gull cried somewhere in the distance. She drew a shaky breath, grounding herself in the present. Nothing could bring him back—only the slow passage of time and the rhythms of this new world.
The subtle shift in the air, a presence brushing past the edge of her senses, hinted at a lone traveler moving across the courtyard. She stayed still, letting them come to her.
