It likely worked in both their favours—though for very different reasons—that Joslyn had propped herself at the galley table and drifted into a light doze. For her, a moment to reset. For him, space to work without distraction.
Blue moved through the familiar rhythms of docking like a quiet current—smooth, practiced, unerring. The Kestrel Dawn required no dramatic theatrics to make her descent. At the orbital station, he completed the necessary paperwork digitally, transmitting declarations, scanned manifests, and sensor logs through the local Charter network. There was no need to speak with the ground crew—no inspections that required face-to-face engagement.
Everything was routine.
He uncoupled the hauler modules one by one—each container sealed and secured, the clamps detaching with audible clicks and hydraulic sighs as they slid away into the automated offload bays below. The external grappling mounts released with a final disengage, and the Dawn shrank considerably in size. What had once been a bulky, steadfast workhorse was now a nimble courier vessel, light enough to dart between checkpoints like a bird freed from weight.
A few key inputs and she was flying again, agile and swift. Blue sent her forward into the atmosphere once the final gate cleared, throttling into warp drive without hesitation. There was no longer any reason to pace himself. No heavy freight. No lingering obligations.
Besides, the reply he’d received from home had already come through. One word.
Okay.
And he knew that okay well. His mother’s tone—even when reduced to text—carried more nuance than most speeches. He could feel the weight of it in the silence. She would have thoughts. Convictions. Questions. Likely a few wide-eyed stares. But she wouldn’t say more until he arrived. That much, at least, he was grateful for.
The warp jump was short—blessedly so.
The gate was close, the path clear. In just under half an hour, the ship emerged in orbit around Aelora.
He bypassed the freight hub this time, directing the Dawn through the civilian lanes. The visitor terminals handled incoming passengers, locals, and returning freighters not flagged for delivery. His credentials were already encoded in the ship’s systems—no questions asked, no stop required. The data pinged through the check-in booths automatically.
Below, Aelora welcomed them with all the splendour she was known for. Blush-pink and sapphire cloudbanks drifted across massive landmasses shaped like sleeping giants, threaded with rivers like veins of glass. The atmosphere shimmered gently as they passed through the ozone, where high-altitude traffic thickened around the cities—but Blue was already veering westward, away from the busy aerial lanes.
Home lay elsewhere.
He took the descent low, hugging the gentle curve of forested hills and open lakes, veering down past tall crags and sweeping grasslands brushed in sunset tones. The ship’s thrusters kicked in gently, balancing her weight as the platform came into view—an elevated vertical dock settled along a ridge just beyond Morrow’s Hollow.
Hydraulics engaged with a soft, reverberating hush. The vessel sighed against the earth, her hull adjusting with quiet creaks and groans. A few manual adjustments confirmed the locking struts were in place.
The cargo bay gave a familiar hiss as internal systems cycled through their final shutdown. Panels adjusted. Lights dimmed. A slow metallic shudder marked the opening of the ramp, which extended with fluid ease toward the waiting earth below.
Outside, the humid breath of a summer’s afternoon greeted them, rich with the scent of damp pine and petrichor. Rain misted lightly through shafts of golden light—what the locals fondly called a sunshower. Warm. Gentle. Alive!
Blue turned slightly, gaze lingering toward the still-quiet galley, and reached out again with his silent voice. “Madam Joslyn,” he said, as soft as thought, as warm as welcome. “We’ve arrived on the surface.”
Joslyn had not fallen into such a deep sleep that she dreamed and one could be glad for that. Yet, when the soft gentle timber of voice murmured her name it did feel oh so dream-like. Unreal, inward. It wasn’t until awareness came to the surface that she stirred, realizing it was no dreamscape she was hearing voices in but a newly familiar one. A real one, even if not spoken aloud.
She shifted back to a sitting position, giving the kitchen galley around her an owlish blink before a faint flush of red filled her features. Falling asleep was so… unprofessional! Dangerous too! Had she not warned the man himself that he ought to be more careful about strangers? Joslyn needed to heed her own advices and not let herself give room to open attack. Everything could shift in an instant, letting her guard down could be a costly mistake.
With a quick brush of her fingers under her eyes and then swiftly running her nails through the depths of midnight hair to be sure she didn’t look some battle and sleep worn mess, Joslyn finally pushed herself up from the seat at the table. Soon to make swift work of straightening the mage’s robe she wore as a long billowing cloak and to be sure her weapon was right at her hip.
“It is time to make your deliveries, then?” she questioned, unaware that the job had already been done as she slept, with simple ease of just disconnecting crates and bays. “You can point me toward the city’s port, I shall take my leave from there. I appreciate the kindness you have done for me so far, but I have no intention of troubling you any further with my mission.”
Lucky for her, Blue wasn’t the type to comment unnecessarily. Not out of politeness—he simply found no purpose in it. There was no gain in teasing someone over exhaustion, no use in remarking on someone’s appearance when they’d clearly gone through a storm. Her choice to rest had been a necessity, plain and simple. Bodies knew when they needed stillness, even if minds hadn’t caught up yet.
And now that she was awake again, sharpening herself into a state that might pass for composed, he didn’t offer judgment. He didn’t raise a brow at the way she adjusted her posture or reassembled her pride. Though, if he were to offer one opinion, it might’ve been that battle-scarred robes weren’t exactly ideal for the streets of Aelora.
His lips quirked slightly into that same soft smile. “No. Already done,” he replied gently to whatever question had stirred on her tongue. “We’re on Aelora. More specifically—Morrow’s Hollow.”
He met her gaze with the same even calm he always wore, the same patience as before, and motioned with a hand for her to follow. “I think it’s probably in your better interest to get familiar with protocols before you go leaping into cities or ports.” His tone wasn’t scolding—just practical. Informative. “You’d likely be flagged as an escaped convict. Or something worse. No ID, no passport, unknown energy signature…” he trailed off, one shoulder lifting in a half-shrug. “They don’t ask a lot of questions before slapping a tracking collar on you.”
He was aware, of course, that he hadn’t exactly followed protocol either. He probably should’ve reported her the moment she appeared on his ship. Should’ve pinged the Charter about the anomaly. There were forms for these things. Interviews. Isolation chambers. Interrogations, sometimes. But instead, he’d made a choice. And now he was doubling down on it.
“I can always pretend I didn’t know better,” he added with a flash of dry humour. “Feigning stupidity tends to get more sympathy than telling the truth.” And he was more than aware being unable to actually speak, would often get him out of such things. Most people didn’t know he had telepathy. Even his own work place assumed he was mute and accepted written items as verbal.
He led her through the shortened corridor of the Kestrel Dawn, the stripped-down hauler now far more agile without its full freight modules. Outside, the sun shower still sprinkled golden mist through warm air, dappling the dock with small puddles and soft reflections.
“My mom could help,” he said after a moment. “She used to work for the Charter. Knows how the system works. Knows how to move within it.” His boots echoed gently against the floor as they approached the ramp. “She could help you get documented. Legal. Give you the tools to move fluidly instead of… let’s say, ending up in a prism prison.”
He glanced back at her with the faintest quirk to his brow, as if to say yes, that’s a real thing. And it was.
“They nullify all sorts of abilities there. Magic included, from what I understand. Wouldn’t be much of a prison if they didn’t.” He paused at the base of the ramp, gaze meeting hers fully now. There was no softness in his tone—but there was something solid. Intentional. “I’d be remiss to just toss you out here and send you on your way.” A beat passed. “The mission you’re on… whatever it is. It deserves a fair chance.” He didn’t ask for gratitude. Didn’t ask for trust. He simply offered it first.
She’d dozed off long enough for him to finish his deliveries and in turn missed her opportunity to search that world. There was a slight frown and a soft sound of displeasure. If this were someone else, she might’ve given him an entire rant that she should’ve been nudged awaken! To do what she needed to do! But the an didn’t know or understand how vital her mission was. He did not now how she would need to do her search, exactly the scope of the menace she was searching for. He was just a man trying to do his job, and had been kind enough to courier her along too. It’d be cruel to cast blame and anger upon him.
Joslyn would save it for herself, who had stupidly fallen asleep.
It seemed they had come to his home world of Aelora and Joslyn was quick to be on his heels to follow. Listening with a bit of alarm to find that her presence in this realm may be a little more complicated than she had known. Beginning to paint a picture of a realm so under the thumb of this Charter, that even the average every day people were reduced down to needing keys and tracking collars!
One would find themselves on the business end of a lightening bolt if they ever dared such a thing with her.
It all almost flew right out of her head when they stepped outside of his vessel into the sunlight day of this new world. Where her steps slowed to an eventual stop the very moment her heeled boots touched to ground and she had a chance to really see a new world up close and personal for the first time. Gorgeous rays of the sun and gold misty rain. Hues in the sky painting pastel clouds of fluffy pink and radiant sky that wasn’t quite clear blue, yet not yet toned green either. As familiar as her own land with tall lush trees and stretching grasslands, and still so alien and strange and beautiful all at once.
The air smelled fresh and sweet like a breezy summer’s day.
…completely forgetting her elegant composure when he’d mentioned a nullification of abilities, magic including. Shooting a stare of utter shock and horror, no sooner followed with the most arrogant and confident expression of let them try that such a tiny woman could muster.
“…I suppose it would be unwise of me to disrespect the law here. Best to be diplomatic and do things the appropriate and legal way.”
Of course with the way she said it, that subtle tone of derision, suggested she was liable to be very disrespectful of law if she saw no fairness in it.
A deep breath pulled the scent of petrichor and sun-warmed leaves into Blue’s chest, his boots clicking lightly against the ramp as he stepped forward—unhurried, steady, at peace in the rainfall. He didn’t glance over his shoulder. Not because he didn’t care, but because looking might give the wrong impression. As if he were uncertain, or worse—waiting for permission.
Morrow’s Hollow stood not far in the near distance, veiled in mist and cradled by towering trees with trunks older than most cities. Modest though it was, the landing pad on which the Kestrel Dawn rested was one of several dotting the soft ridge, nestled between patches of ferns and rain-washed stone. A few other crafts were parked nearby—sleek or battered, humanoid or otherwise—but none drew attention.
Because Morrow’s Hollow didn’t bustle. It breathed.
The buildings were shaped of stone, glass, and techwoven composites, half-embraced by the landscape around them. Green roofs. Blooming balconies. Winding roads that curved as though poured gently from a giant’s hand. Advanced, yes—but quiet. Not towering cities with veins of neon and the scream of magrails. Blue had seen those. Admired them, even. But they weren’t home.
“Truly the best idea,” he said, his voice a whisper across their tether, offering it like a coat. “Wherever that demon is, best they don’t catch your scent here or there. Blend in. Let yourself be just another thread in the weave. That way, they can’t pull you lose.” He sounded certain—even if his fingers drifted back through his hair like someone chasing a thought. Then he gestured forward with a lazy motion of one hand.
The ramp behind them began to close, the Kestrel Dawn sensing their absence and sealing itself with a low hydraulic sigh. The rain tickled the edges of Blue’s sleeves, though he didn’t seem to mind it, as they made their way across the soft gravel trail into town.
They weren’t far before heads began to turn.
Blue’s face was known here—familiar as a lantern’s glow. A few voices called his name. Others simply waved. Morrow’s Hollow had always been friendly like that. But the curiosity that followed his unexpected companion was palpable. Not unfriendly—just… wide-eyed. Small-town awe. Some tilted their heads. One child stopped mid-run, blinked, and darted behind a stall. Blue just lifted a hand and waved back, choosing that quiet gesture over anything more invasive. He didn’t push his thoughts outward unless asked. Most folks preferred it that way.
They made a soft arc through the town’s heart, where flowering trees spilled bright petals onto the stonework paths. Then, finally, he led her through the sliding doors of a wide, glass-and-steel structure—both modern and inviting.
The Morrow’s Hollow Hotel.
Inside, the lobby was calm, basked in warm lighting and the low hum of conversation from deeper within. The front desk stood clean and quiet, only one person stationed behind it.
And she was already watching them.
A towering woman, built with that sculpted, alien grace Blue shared—though she wore it with more pride. Her skin was pale as ice, her cheekbones high and ridged. The elegant crest of bone that ran from her brow to the crown of her head gave the illusion of styled hair, though it
was natural—ornamental in its own way. Her eyes were bright cyan, glowing faintly, narrowed in what could only be called amusement.
“And here I thought you were pulling your mother’s leg, Blue,” she said, voice rich with humour and undercut by something deeper—fondness, a kind of affectionate knowing.
She didn’t immediately greet Joslyn. Not with words. Instead, her attention swept over her in full, thoughtful silence. And then—laughter.
It rang out bright and bold, echoing off the high lobby ceiling. The kind of laugh that filled a room whether you wanted it to or not. Something had clearly been said between them—telepathically, perhaps—but whether Blue had spoken only to her or not was unclear. What was clear was the way her sharp-toothed grin blossomed without hesitation.
Blue, for his part, rubbed his knuckles across his cheek and sighed like a man used to this exact routine. Then he turned toward Joslyn. “This is Virelya,” he said, with a trace of formal tone. “My mother. Owner of the hotel, and—”
“—Don’t give away everything, Little Pulse,” she interrupted, flashing a toothy grin at her son before turning her full attention to Joslyn. The title carried affection, pride… and just a hint of well-earned mischief. “Welcome to our neck of the woods,” she said, spreading her arms like a matron welcoming someone into her kitchen. “It’s not often Blue brings anyone home. Please, come in. Come in.”
This place of Morrow’s Hollow was so reminiscent of a simple village town, one could almost miss the signs that this was a very different realm. One not built of magic but of metal and strange gadgetry. Engineering. Quaint houses of wood and glass were dappled were still teeming with electricity underneath. When Joslyn wriggled her fingers she could almost call to it… almost wanted to try, but was too afraid to test it. Not when the streets were populated with people and Blue’s warnings of the Charter’s law running through her mind.
Her magic could be tampered with if she were to act unwise. Best not to use it unless she needed to. Appreciating his offered wisdom too, that if she were to blend in as if she belonged in his realm, that might help her sneak up on the beast she hunted, rather than it knowing she was on it’s trail.
There were shapes of people she could recognize and shapes did not, for which Joslyn was suddenly grateful for her education at the conclave in that moment. Her years of studying the history of the world, about all of it’s people’s past and present. Of creatures still living and those extinct. Otherwise she might’ve been staring open-mouthed and gaping like a backwater bumpkin staring at every unrecognizable being she laid eyes on.
At least she knew he was a friendly face here. Herself? Well… Joslyn knew she likely looked as if she’d crawled out of the back of a tavern after a fight. No amount of elegant poise and squared shoulders was going to hide that.
That poise even remained as the entered a place marked as a Hotel. A cozy seeming place with an impressive woman that looked more an ancient goddess than any sort of desk clerk.
Losing that poise immediately to hear this was the very man’s own mother. That was where the wide-eyed stare began, only not at her… it went straight to Blue with that examination from the tip of silver hair, to the ocean blue of eyes – a resemblance there barely – down the rest of him.
Introductions were in order, however, and Joslyn took due notice of how it was done. Blue attempting to do so more formally, while his ivory goddess of a parent laughed it away to something more casual. Thus, Joslyn stuck with the very fainted of bows and abandoned the use of her entire title. To be casual.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Virelya, Mother of Blue. I am… Joslyn.”
That felt awkward. Her title was glorious!
“Lady Joslyn.”
There, that felt more natural. Straightening again quite proud of herself for at least cutting it down to what the normal everyday people would do. Taking the man’s advice in her attempt at blending in with the locals.
One could ask.
People had before. More than once. And Virelya never turned down the opportunity to tell it—with a flair for drama and details that, according to Blue, evolved a little more with every retelling. She loved to make it a tale. The Saerathe midwife, doing her rounds across outer-rim colonies, only to end up inheriting a human child through a string of oddities and good timing.
No, there was no blood shared between the towering seven-and-a-half-foot alien and the quiet human who now bore her surname in full legality, but that hadn’t stopped her from weaving a myth around it. The truth—quiet, unsensational—was just that she’d kept him. For good reasons. And for Virelya Saeth, that had been enough.
But Joslyn didn’t ask. And Blue didn’t offer. He just shrugged lightly, letting the moment pass as he turned to offer what should’ve been a polite introduction.
Only for it to be immediately steamrolled.
“Joslyn,” Virelya repeated brightly, clipping off the “Lady” before it could find air. “None of that formal fluff in my lobby. If I ever start calling people by their full titles, it’s probably because I’m trying to scare off investors.” She was grinning again—sharp teeth, bright eyes, not a hint of menace. Just warm boldness, all edges softened by affection.
Her gaze flicked down, unbothered as she pointed with a long, graceful finger. “Your robes have seen better cycles. Unless blood and scorch marks are the look you’re going for? No judgment, dear, but if you’d rather not terrify the locals, I’ve got a few spare sets of travel gear tucked away. Clean. Whole. Even stylish, if you squint.”
She moved from behind the desk with fluid confidence, the faint glow of her skin catching in the lobby’s warm lights as she swept toward a propped door. A gesture followed. An invitation. “Come on, then. Kitchen’s back here. Fewer eyes and better smells.”
Blue followed with a quiet smile, hands loosely tucked in his pockets, offering Joslyn a glance that read more like you’ll be fine than anything else.
Inside, the building felt like a home pretending to be a hotel—clean but lived-in, with the smell of slow-cooked root vegetables and citrus tea already thick in the air. They moved through a narrow hallway until the space opened into a dining room: polished wood floors, folded linen, and a long communal table stacked with freshly laundered baskets awaiting sorting.
Virelya moved with purpose, pausing only as Blue began signing in his usual way. Not hand-signed language exactly, but his own blend—familiar to her, foreign to most. He gestured with an ease born of years. “Is that so,” Virelya hummed, her voice shifting to a dry cadence. “Troublesome, that is, Beyon. You know underdeveloped worlds aren’t meant to be interacted with. What you’re asking… it’s dangerous, dear.”
More gestures. Another patient flick of his hand, followed by a nod. She raised her brow but kept walking. “I suppose. Not like the foreign affairs office is going to care whether she just appeared on your ship. It’s the principle they like to grind down.” Another series of movements. She paused at the kitchen pass-through window, calling in: “Yes, bring a plate. She’s all string.”
Then she turned again, looking to see if there was a slight confusion forming in Joslyn’s expression. “Sorry, Joslyn dear,” she said, folding one of the laundry baskets off to the side with practiced ease. “I forget sometimes—it can be a bit strange, hearing one side of a conversation. Just getting the basics from my son.” Her glowing eyes narrowed kindly. “You’re chasing a demon, are you? And you’ve found yourself unceremoniously flung out of your own world. That’s no small thing.”
She motioned again, this time toward the table. “Sit. Rest. I’ve got dinner on, and no shortage of questions. But I want to hear it from you—your words, not his summary.”
She moved another basket off the bench. “What exactly are you intending, Joslyn? Because people don’t just fall out of rifts into Charter space every day without stirring up some kind of storm. And from where I’m standing… you look like one.”
To not be formal would… take a bit of adjustment. There were things Joslyn was born and bred into that was as ingrained in her as her blood. Etiquette and mannerisms that were only refined all the further within the conclave, where skilled mages were treated with as much respect as crowned royalty. Thus she did not correct the woman to use her formal title, accepting this means of casual air as what it was meant to be. A way to welcome her.
Soon to glance down at her own clothing once it was pointed out, that faint twist of her mouth and a grim nod. New clothing would be necessary, no matter how much Joslyn wanted to argue it. Batting back that twist in her stomach that feared loosing a piece of where she came from. It’s not as if she’d have to abandon her mage robes or her clothes! They simply needed to be washed and repaired!
Still she followed, giving Blue’s little gesture to hint that she would be fine a dubious scrunch of her nose. Of course she would be fine. Perhaps she felt a little off-kilter even in her curiousness at the way they interacted with each other. A parent and child conversing through gestures and words in a way that was warm. Comfortable. Loving. This had not been her own experience, so to witness it was… well. Those were feelings she’d shelved a long time ago. They no longer mattered now.
Though, Joslyn did straighten and looked entirely offended at being referenced to a string! Small, maybe! Shorter than even most women! But she was a mighty, threatening, dangerous beast. Not a wee string.
On being addressed again, however, she wiped that look off her face, doing as was bid to take a seat at the table. Folding her hands neatly on the top as she considered the best way to explain the situations. Blue, as it seemed, had given his mother a summary so that meant she was a trusted individual (terrifying truly, for who could trust a parent at all). There was no sense in spinning a cover story, she might as well say the truth of it. Especially if the woman was meant to help Joslyn with legalities regarding this Charter.
Hard not to smile brightly, wickedly, at being referenced as a storm, though. That ought to have warned anyone who saw it that she was truly nothing but trouble. Only to have it disappear in an instance when it came down to her business.
“As I told the one who looks like a sweetheart male instead of an ivory goddess like yourself – which I do have questions about I will surely ask them later – I am part of a conclave of mages, the Sidus Order. It is our duty to research magic and protect our realm from a demon that comes into our lands every one hundred years through a rift torn into the very fabric of our existence. I and twelve other Masters of the Arcane fought the demon back through it’s rift.”
Here in her story she faltered a bit, as if she were still trying to piece the parts together and not liking what she was realizing but still trying to push onwards despite it.
“…they’d fought that battle for generations. I felt it was time to do something different and I followed it into the rift. Where I landed in the starship of your son, no rift nor demon in sight. I intend to search for the beast and kill it if possible. If not… then I will return to my realm knowing more than what any mage has gathered before. That is an acceptable explanation?”
The statement—sweetheart male and ivory goddess—had Virelya letting out a laugh so deep it echoed off the paneled walls of the hotel dining room. It started in her chest and rolled through her with unrestrained delight, arms folding over the table as if she were preparing to tell the punchline of a story she hadn’t even heard yet.
No, she didn’t stifle it. Not even a little.
For all the effort Joslyn may have made to flatter or disarm her, it only amused the Saerathe matron further. Whether it was an intentional gambit or simply the girl’s poetic sensibilities bleeding through, it was terribly quaint. “An ivory goddess,” she chuckled, shaking her head with a grin full of sharp teeth. “You should hear how some of my kin would respond to that.”
She could already hear the scoffs and smirks echoing from her own people across light-years. And sweetheart male? Oh, that one might stick. There were certainly more than a few locals in Morrow’s Hollow who wouldn’t hesitate to agree—not that her son had ever seemed to notice his fan club. Or he did, and ignored it with the stubborn elegance of someone too grounded to care.
Still, as her laughter ebbed and Joslyn began to speak in earnest, Virelya shifted. Her posture softened but did not slacken. Her attention honed—not just listening, but recording, comparing the account to what Blue had silently relayed earlier.
They were aligned, mostly. Blue had offered thoughts, not judgments. But it was clear now that the mage had thrown herself far more willingly—and perhaps more blindly—into this leap through realms than Virelya had originally assumed. So she listened.
Not interrupting. Not rushing. And when the girl finished her tale, Virelya gave a short, thoughtful hum. “Noble of you,” she said at last, voice quieter now, laced with something more sincere. “One can’t change anything without acting to change it. And I imagine being stalked for centuries by a creature with no end in sight wears on more than just the soul.”
A dark, lacquered nail punctuated the air like a scalpel of thought. “However…” The warmth in her tone didn’t vanish, but it did give way to the weight of something more serious. Measured. Meant to land.
“You’ve leapt into a far broader world than your own. This isn’t just magic and fantasy anymore. You’ve entered a system that spans stars. Millions of planets. Thousands of cultures. Beings and creatures and politics that you haven’t even dreamed of yet. And where you come from?” she gestured loosely. “It’s considered off-limits. Untouched. A place protected from influence because you’re still evolving—because your people haven’t earned this knowledge yet.” Her eyes caught Joslyn’s squarely. “Surely you’ve got heretics. The sort who say wild, nonsensical things. Madmen at the edge of reason that no one listens to—because their truths are too far ahead of what’s considered acceptable. Logical or not.”
Taking in a breath to ensure she was not lecturing but offering insight. “Now imagine you. Alone. No other master. No witnesses to what happened. You go back home and say you passed through the demon’s rift and touched other worlds—what happens? Are they there with open arms? Or do they chain you to a bed and say you’ve gone mad?” The words weren’t cruel. But they didn’t flinch. They needed to land where they would hurt just enough to matter. “Think about it, smart girl. Because you do seem smart.”
She leaned back slightly, but her eyes remained locked. “And what you call a demon?” She flicked her eyes toward Blue briefly, then back. “He thinks it may be something even we consider a myth. A creature so ancient and rare that even now, with all we’ve charted and classified, the scholars still call it bedtime nonsense.” Her voice lowered, slow and even. “So. You go telling people you’re chasing a demon? You’ll be laughed out of every archive, court, and institute from here to the Silver Archipelago.”
Her fingers counted off now, with crisp precision: “One: you’re flagged as an unauthorized off-worlder from a protected planet. You’re detained and carted off to an interim camp. Best case, they send you home with memory scrubbing.” Vire leveled her stare on the girl for emphasis.
“Two: they think you’re insane. Trauma-locked. A danger to yourself or others. And institutionalization on this scale? It’s clinical and clean—and forever.” A third finger lifted between them. “Three: you avoid both, but word spreads. You’re branded strange, erratic, unreliable. Doors close. Reputations matter out here, child.”
She let the weight of it settle for a moment. Then she leaned forward again, fingers steepling. “So. Since Blue says you learn quickly—here’s a test.” Her tone lost none of its authority. But now it was tinged with something else. The slow, rising thread of respect. “Say a stranger appeared in your world. One of mine, let’s say. Glowing, ridged, not of your blood. And they tell you wild things—of galaxies and rifts and ancient beings.”
Her head tilted. “How would you respond, Joslyn? Would you believe them? Or bind them in runes and send for another master to judge their sanity?” She folded her hands and waited, utterly still. “I want to hear your truth. Because how you would treat us, may shape how you ask us to treat you.”
Joslyn had not been prepared for such laughter simply for calling the woman an ivory goddess, that wasn’t meant to be humorous or even an attempt at flattery – simply an observation of the truth! At least it had not deterred her from explaining just how she ended up in this realm, in turn earning this woman claiming her to be noble as well for leaping into the rift on her chosen mission. Grateful that someone finally understood the need to stop the cycle of madness in doing the same things over and over. How important it was to make a change.
That was not to be the end of it though. Joslyn could already see it in her ivory features and the soft glow of cyan eyes, that Virelya intended to educate her. When one spent their entire life being corrected and educated by others, you could always see when it was coming. The trick was discerning when it was in good intention by someone knowledgeable, or if it was simply one’s ego trying to force their interpretations upon you.
So Joslyn leaned forward and listened. No hesitation.
Millions of worlds, not just the thousands that Blue had suggested. Millions of worlds and thousands of cultures. Perhaps at first Joslyn felt a sense of wounded pride and pure insult to hear that in this realm a world like her own was nothing more than the primitive. Lacking the greater knowledge to be part of the greater whole. Instinct wanted to defend her home, sing the praises of her order and all the knowledge that they had…. only how could she deny that there was still so much they were unaware of? When they did not know other entire worlds even existed?
So she kept her silence, frowning ever so softly as Virelya went on to suggest she imagine herself returning home after learning all that she knew about this realm and how the others would perceive it.
That… landed in an uncomfortable space. The Masters who never quite respected her or her ideas. The ones who at the very rift, where for the first time they’d together – with her contributions – had fought the beast back faster than any had ever before. Her contemporaries in title, elders in age, who’d rebuked her demands that for once, for ONCE perhaps they should chase the beast in and see if they could learn something more. A fool’s errand maybe, but no less dismissed without a second thought.
Any information she brought back was not likely to be well received, no matter how true it was. None would want to admit that they were wrong.
Joslyn could handle that, though. She would have to as it was her duty.
The warnings about her actions in the here and now were more concerning. For this place, this Charter sounded as if they had an iron grip of control across all of these worlds. If the beast she chased was also something of phantom myth and legend even here? Joslyn was not more than a lunatic screaming in the town square at best. At worst… it seemed she would be whisked away and imprisoned, never to be heard of again.
This was a great deal more complicated than she ever could have imagined.
There was a long silence when Virelya asked her testing question, for Joslyn truly did need to think about it. Never in her life would she have been able to imagine a place like this. The entire idea of millions of worlds and thousands of cultures. Beings and peoples and entire societies never known before.
And yet…?
“…I would believe it. I would believe and want to know everything,” she answered honestly, earnestly… only to follow that with a reluctant acceptance and a grimace. “But I am not the standard… others would not believe. There would be mayhem amongst the order from those who claim it madness, those who’d be frightened and think it some grand scheme. Some that would wish to attack first and ask questions only after. If they even dared to asked questions at all.”
After all, the Sidus Order in it’s modern day was so reluctant to change, why would they listen to some new strange being? They would not even listen to her.
Joslyn went quiet again, thinking through how she would have to proceed from here in a realm bigger than she could even comprehend with a force of governance that was liable to make her disappear if she could not somehow many herself invisible in her own. How she would take all this knowledge back home would have to be a future problem.
“I shall have to make myself of this realm and tread carefully.”
The curve of Virelya’s pale lips bent into a smile—not the kind born of amusement or glee, but the quiet, deeply maternal one a mother wears when her child is trying. When the heart is in the right place, but the road is still long and lined with truths heavier than youth should carry.
She saw it. Joslyn understood more than most might have at this stage. She was a quick learner, just as Blue had said. And that mattered. “Sadly,” Virelya said gently, “no matter how evolved a world may appear—or how untouched—it doesn’t change the patterns of mortal nature. Some will believe. More will not. And many, many will do everything they can to silence change before it even finds its legs.”
She opened one elegant hand in a loose, matter-of-fact gesture. Not cruel. Not resigned. Just truthful. “You’re proof of that.” Her voice never lifted, but her words struck with the soft weight of inevitability. “You came through the rift alone. Not with your Order. Not with your peers. You were willing to act—but they were not. For all their wisdom and magic, they didn’t stand with you.”
She leaned forward again, folding her arms over the table’s edge with long-fingered ease. “I’m sure you’ve heard the saying—only appreciated after death.” A brief pause followed, not for effect, but to let it land. “It’s dreadful. But true.”
The glint in her eyes softened again—still sharp, but with a shade of approval now. A subtle tilt of the head marked her shift in tone. “We may be more technologically advanced than your world, Joslyn, but don’t confuse advancement with enlightenment. There are people out here—whole factions—who are not as forward-thinking as you are. You’re already ahead of some of the so-called visionaries who claim to lead.”
She straightened with a hum, voice cooling into a rhythm of instruction now—less a warning, more a framework. “And to do what you intend… to go covert, as you say—you’ll need more than just your magic. You’ll need knowledge.” Her hand traced an invisible circle on the table. “Study. Learn. Government, planetary systems, social customs, the Charter’s politics and all its mess. Learn how to move quietly in a world far louder than the one you came from. Because this—” her gaze deepened, “—This is a pot of stew far bigger and stranger than even a mage could anticipate.”
It was then that footsteps signaled behind them. Blue pushed through the door with his shoulder, balancing plates in one arm and a ceramic dish in the other. The scent hit the room almost immediately: warm, sweet, spiced—sunfruit glazed over fire and herbs, carried on steam.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said, the words shaped in that peculiar way of his—effortless, telepathic, gentle.
Virelya’s eyes lit sweetly at the one that had claimed child in her life. “Nonsense. You never interrupt, Little Pulse.” Her hands pressed against the table, as if she meant to rise—but she didn’t. She simply beamed in approval as the plates were brought forth. “Perfect timing. Glazed Hareth bulbs. Comfort on a plate.”
She motioned to the dish now settled in front of Joslyn—a spiraled presentation of roasted hareth bulbs, their soft layers soaked in sunfruit reduction, curling around a scoop of charred ironroot grains and crowned with crisp meera leaves. “Eat,” Virelya insisted, her tone slipping into something warmer. “You’ll need the fuel if you plan to reshape destiny.”
Then she folded her hands once more, all matron and mystery again. “We’ll get you settled in. Tomorrow, we’ll begin with your identification—get you into the Charter system properly. When you’re ready to travel again, you’ll do it right. With access, not assumption.”
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly as if peering beyond the girl in front of her. “You have a path ahead. Not easy. But yours.” And for the first time, she didn’t sound like she was cautioning her. Vire sounded like she believed her.
Strange how this woman had such a maternal grace and it was that to which felt so foreign and alien to Joslyn, rather than the fact she appeared as a marbled god having come to life in a temple! Yet how a part of her chest ached and her stomach twisted to hear the phrase only appreciated after death, as no matter how much Joslyn didn’t want to think it, she could not help but wonder if the fellow Masters had hoped for that. For she really couldn’t believe that they allowed her to do so because they thought she was right, but was simply too cowardly to go through it themselves.
At least Virelya had her own wisdom to share in the form of what Joslyn herself could dedicate her mind to studying. A full list in fact in perfect succession that would help her understand this realm she was now part of and how she could navigate it safely. Straightening up in her seat with this determined affirmation of a nod, confident even despite all her own lack of knowledge… For a lack of knowledge was not a problem if you were willing to learn! Joslyn had only fought a demon once in her life, but studying? That she’d done for two decades!
Then Blue bustled in with plates, as if being a courier had never been his job, and instead he’d spent a lifetime of serving of dishes of prettily plated meals. The smell warm and savory, inviting to her senses and rousing a rumble of hunger in her stomach. Welcomed too for Joslyn had grown weary of that churning that kept her feeling so off kilter and unsettled. …Although, it did look a bit like winding roasted snails on a pile of beans.
This was fine. Joslyn was brave and fierce and unafraid of suspiciously snail-like bulbs. If it smelled wonderful, surely it would taste so too. Taking up the utensils she cut herself a little piece and made sure eat of the ingredients were there on the fork. Only pausing before a bite at Virelya’s declaration that Joslyn had an uneasy path to walk.
“It is how it’s always been, a path of learning. Not always quite in the directions I expected to go, but I walk it all the same. I appreciate the assistance given to me by you and your son. I’ll be sure to be on my way quickly so that no trouble comes down upon your family.”
With that she finally took her bite and what a relief…! It didn’t taste of slimy snails!
With plates placed and chairs eased into their rightful places, the air in the room shifted—settling into something more domestic, more intimate. The kind of warmth found in lived-in spaces and shared meals. The scent of the spiced reduction drifted gently between them, mingling with the steam rising off each dish.
Virelya, goddess-like only in title now, took up her fork and knife with easy grace. She cut into the soft, glistening hareth bulb with the precision of someone used to moving through both conversation and ceremony at the same time. Her gaze, of course, remained on Joslyn—even as she chewed, even as her son quietly found a rhythm of his own at the table.
The young woman’s words had weight. She was used to learning. The hard path didn’t daunt her—it was familiar terrain. That much, Virelya respected. But the notion that Joslyn would depart swiftly—that she might only be passing through like a catalyst in some cosmic equation—earned the slightest curve of her lips. Not mocking, but curious and testing.
“What makes you think we don’t have trouble of our own?” Virelya asked, tone even, eyes glinting as she took another bite. Her poise was effortless—knife and fork moving in delicate sequence as she seemed to speak with her thoughts as much as her words.
Blue blinked once, mid-scoop of grain and bulb, clearly curious himself now. But if he’d guessed what she was up to, he didn’t say.
Virelya offered no follow-up, instead leaning into the silence, letting the question breathe—just long enough for it to stir. “Of course I know what you mean,” she added at last, setting her utensils down with a soft clink. “But every place has its shadows. Some longer than others. Some… more deeply woven.”
She glanced toward Blue then, a wry twist forming at the edge of her mouth.
“Even here. Our quaint little neck of the woods had its own trial not long ago. Barely resolved a few years back. Lasted nearly a decade, didn’t it?” The other gave a low hum, swallowing before answering with a casualness that sounded well-practiced.
“All was solved. That’s what matters.” Naturally Blue didn’t elaborate. He rarely did. But his tone was easy—firm, but not evasive. Just finished. Virelya smirked at his deflection but didn’t press. She turned instead to Joslyn again, now clearly shifting the weight of the moment.
“So. Tell me, what have you learned, Joslyn?” She gestured with her fork in a looping motion, like offering the floor at a council table without the sort of sarcasm one might have expected. It was authentic interest. “You strike me as someone with something to say. Something to give. And we—” she gestured between herself and her son with a lazy flick of her hand, “—are but eager minds waiting for your wisdom.”
Another pause before she’d taken another bite, brows furrowing deeply as she tried to decipher whether not Virelya question was meant to be answered or if it were simply conversational declaration. For, of course, it was likely that they had troubles of their own. Although it was hard to imagine it with the way Blue was such a quiet, gentle sort. That scar across his neck spoke of darker things, and it was not her place to start poking and prodding into people’s pasts just to sate her own curiosity. That could be a road to unnecessary hurt.
Joslyn only wanted to hurt people when she meant it.
Blue did not seem so eager to elaborate on the subject, though that stopped his mother not. Seeming the need to give Joslyn this background of information for a purpose the girl had still not figured out.
Finally taking that bite and wishing she hadn’t when Virelya stole the opportunity to ask a question she did wish to be answered. Suggesting that Joslyn was one who wished to speak. Share her knowledge, wisdom, and opinions with the world.
She could have laughed. That might have been the first time in her entire life someone had actually asked for it. The irony…? For once Joslyn did not know what to give! Glancing between them with an expression more akin to a doe caught by lantern’s light. Forcing her to chew quickly and swallow, brushing fingers against her lips as she scrambled for something that might actually be worth sharing.
“I am a Master of Arcane, I am not sure it would be any use to you to know the magical properties of mushrooms you will never seen, or how to draw runic symbols you will never use.” Joslyn paused there, unsatisfied with her own answer, until she brightened up to speak both with her hands and the fork she now used as a baton. “What I have learned here, is that your star ships must work like bodies do. A power core is the heart that pumps energy through-out the whole of the structure, like blood through the veins. Only it is electrical energy. His cockpit, that had no cocks that I could see, seemed the most likely center that would be the brain to process the information and function. To tell all the extremities and devices what to do. A replicator dispenses food, so that is a function. There must be a system for flight, for the air breathe – as there are oxygen scrubbers. Communication and navigations would surely be necessities for traveling through the stars. All of this is done through architecture and engineering.”
And there Joslyn had to stop because she’d hit her limit on what she’d discovered so far, but she was so completely dazzled by it that even now she was trying to figure out how that much energy could be store within the vessel without even using a single bit of magic.
“I can light up the sky with my hands alone and that is not nearly as amazing as the thought of capturing all of that energy to create a flying ship!”
“We might never see them,” Virelya mused, dabbing sauce from the corner of her mouth, “but that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth knowing about. We learn from others. We imagine the rest. That’s how stories become blueprints, or warnings.” Another bite of hareth bulb found its way to her fork, conveniently acting as punctuation to her sentence. She chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed.
“Different worlds, different truths. But magic?” She gestured with the fork. “Everything we think we know about it out here comes from someone making it up to tell a story. You’d know better than we would if those stories ever had roots in something real.”
Blue offered a soft nod of agreement—not needing to speak for his agreement to land. Just the gentle tilt of his head and a flicker of approval in his eyes. For him, learning—even just for the sake of curiosity—was reason enough. Then Joslyn spoke. And at first, it was poised. Thoughtful. Until she got to that part.
“…the cockpit, which had no cocks that I could see…”
The room paused.
Blue choked—quite literally. Mid-chew, his throat caught on a piece of ironroot grain, his hand thumping instinctively against his chest and throat in search of dignity, if not air. His eyes widened in stunned disbelief as he tried not to die at the dinner table.
Virelya?
Burst out laughing.
Full, boisterous, echoing laughter that made the rafters hum. She slapped a hand to the table, gasping for breath, tears welling in her pale, glowing eyes. “Oh—oh stars,” she wheezed.
Blue, red-cheeked but alive, gave a helpless wave of his hand that vaguely translated to I’m fine, please ignore this attempt on my life by my own dignity.
Virelya reached across to pat his shoulder in faux sympathy, though she was still chuckling between every breath. “You alright, hun?” she teased, wiping at her face with her palms. Blue gave a weak but coherent nod, finally finding enough composure to exhale without something clogging his throat.
“Dear, it’s called a cockpit because of old world terms,” she offered, her voice still trembling with suppressed laughter. “It used to mean a pit where roosters fought—cockfighting, back on old Earth. Over time, the term stuck to mean the command space of ships or planes. No actual roosters or something else involved. Well… depending on the pilot.”
That drew another chuckle from her, but she smothered it into her hand this time.
Blue, now back among the living, brushed a hand through his hair and gave Joslyn a smile that said I’m fine. Then, with a small breath, he began: His utensil now resting on the edge of the plate, Blue folded one hand over the ceramic and raised the other in quiet thought. His telepathic voice swept outwards with a familiar warmth—clear and fluid, like water slipping over stone. “You’re not far off,” he said first, to set the tone. Encouragement, not correction. “The comparison is poetic. The body metaphor works… but it’s not alive. Not really. Ships like the Kestrel Dawn don’t grow. They don’t heal. They don’t adapt unless we tell them how.”
His eyes drifted briefly to the far wall, beyond which the heart of the ship hummed quietly. “The power core, yes—that’s the heart. It distributes energy to every subsystem. But the ‘cockpit’—or flight deck, to be more accurate—is more like a command node. It’s where input is given. But much of it is shared with the AI. The ship thinks, but only because we gave it protocols. Guidelines made by living minds.”
Thoughtfully he gave a pause, allowing her space to catch up before continuing. “The replicator doesn’t conjure food. It reconfigures stored base matter into something usable. A kind of programmed alchemy, but it’s bound by supply and code. The oxygen scrubbers? They don’t make air. They clean it. Like a filter does for water. They remove what would otherwise kill us.”
He tapped two fingers against the table softly—one, two. “Every bolt, pump, valve, and wire was designed. Not grown. Not summoned. Fabricated by engineers, installed by hands.” Then his voice grew quieter—not solemn, but meaningful. “Ships don’t live unless we keep them alive. No instinct. No intuition. No miracles.”
He leaned forward just slightly, meeting Joslyn’s gaze directly. “What you said—it means you’re already seeing how the pieces fit. That’s a rare instinct. But remember—starships don’t breathe unless we make them breathe. They’re not gods. Not golems. They’re tools. Their purpose—good or bad—comes from the hand that guides them.”
That was an interesting take to it – learning even what you did not need, simply because stories became the blueprints of the future. Stories had in fact been the verbal and written guideline of both good deeds and bad, of lessons learned and lessons lost. Joslyn had never really thought of knowledge itself as a part of those stories. All the facts she memorized were indeed tiny little tales all on their own, weren’t they? How things changed and evolved over time. How magic came from the natural world and developed in whole new ways.
…she missed the conclave an her studies. It had not even been an entire day or night.
Of course for a brief moment in her explaining of her learnings on the starship, she was very concerned that she’d nearly killed the man. Rambling on until she was done and realized they’d gone quiet – or rather choking to death maybe! Even with his signal that he was fine, for his mother was brimming with laughter and Joslyn could not fathom the reasons of why! Assuming at first that maybe she’d gotten her entire assessment wrong, until she finally caught her own breath long enough to explain what a cockpit actually was.
Well that was perfectly mundane, wasn’t it. Though it still did not explain how it jumped from roosters fighting in a pit to that room of buttons and command! Clearly she was missing linguistic context and it boggled her!
At least when Blue spoke in her mind again with that soft tone of his, she was free to resume her meal without fear that he was about to perish. Glad to know she had gotten the gist of starships correct at least in general terms,.
…did this man believe she actually thought the ship was akin to an actual living being simply because she used metaphor? As if she could not tell with eyes alone that it was simply a constructed thing! Maybe she was forgetting that perhaps the average person from a world they deemed as primitive would indeed mistake it for being living. Joslyn herself was a prodigy, after all. Smarter than most, quick to look at the obvious and then see beyond to connect the dots.
Besides… in listening to him speak, there was an appreciation and love there for the starship he sailed. Joslyn was not sure he knew it came through in his voice, that reverence for the thing as it was living, the ways it needed to be maintained and cared for. She found it hard to snap at him for making the assumptions about her, when he clearly felt deeply.
This foolish, silly man.
“I see,” she said instead, maybe still having that I’m not an entire idiot expression to her features, though not for long. “…mostly. A cockpit is still a confusing name for such a room, if one is not meant to be fighting in it, and I am not certain what an eeey-i is meant to be, but I am certain once I go over engineering books that I’ll catch on fast enough. I’ll have to build up to having a starship of my own if I wish to travel easily.”
There it was back to back, being oh so quick to learn, savvy, intelligent, and not quite realizing she was just as naive. Missing the sort of understanding that she ought to have even in her own realm, that these things were not so easily acquired.
For a moment, it felt like understanding had bridged between them—brief but present. Joslyn’s stare was steady, and Blue, though silent, seemed content to let the moment settle. He didn’t return the look, didn’t offer comment, only dipped his gaze to his plate in preparation for a more cautious bite.
But then—Joslyn spoke again.
Her words were sincere. Curious. So utterly not of their world that Virelya blinked once, then shifted slightly in her seat, lips parting with the shadow of a smile. It wasn’t mockery. It was recognition—of how far this girl truly had to go.
She tilted her head toward her son, as if seeking confirmation. Blue didn’t speak, but he gave a subtle dip of his head. A quiet: yes, you heard that right.
Virelya turned back to Joslyn with a new weight behind her smile—warmer, but lined with steel. Then she set her utensils down with an air of ritual, folding her hands neatly before her. “Engineering a starship,” she said, calmly, “Isn’t a weekend hobby.”
Her glowing cyan eyes settled on the girl—not to diminish, but to ground her. To speak on things she knew because they lived this world and hadn’t come out from a rift with determination and pride. “It’s not something you learn by flipping through a few clever diagrams or watching someone push buttons. It’s not magic. And it’s not just electricity.”
She gestured in a slow arc with one long-fingered hand. “Let me tell you what it is, Joslyn. Not the version they print on recruitment posters. Not the story the thrill-chasers whisper over drinks in spacer bars. The truth.” A soft tap of her finger echoed against the table.
“People like to think starship engineering is just lights and wires. A game of puzzles and sparks. They forget what happens when those wires burn out. Or when the oxygen stops circulating. Or when a microfracture in your hull goes unnoticed until your ears pop and the air’s gone.”
Her posture shifted, elbows bracing against the tabletop now. Her voice dipped—not dramatically, but deliberately. Weighting every word like a warning given out of care. “Real engineering is messy. It’s years of study. Years of failure. You learn systems, yes—but you also learn what happens when systems fail. You learn pressure seals. Alloys. Radiation absorption. How heat disperses through reinforced plating. You learn how to hear a warped vent fan two decks below you, because it’s got twelve hours left before it tears a circuit open.”
She didn’t blink. “You learn thermodynamics. Material fatigue. Propellant chemistry. Field dampeners and synthetic gravity alignment. You learn how to keep one system from tripping another. Because if you don’t? Your ship becomes a coffin.”
Her brow arched now—not unkindly, but pointedly. “It doesn’t come from books alone. It comes from experience. From instructors who survived their own fires. From time spent in hull crawls, in mock vacuums, in crisis drills that make your nerves sweat. That’s where you learn.”
Then her voice softened, ever so slightly. “And if you think building one is easier?” A faint smile tugged at her lips again, almost rueful. “That’s even harder. The Charter doesn’t just hand out ship licenses like candy. Not everyone gets to fly.”
She turned her head, then, her gaze shifting toward Blue. “How long did it take you to get your pilot’s license, little pulse?” Blue, who had been quietly finishing his plate in peace, looked up with calm attentiveness. He didn’t bristle. He didn’t shrink. He simply considered the question, then replied with measured grace.
“Four years,” he said. “But that was express training. I had eight years of military service before that.” Virelya nodded, as if affirming a shared truth between them both.
“Accelerated training,” she repeated. “With war behind it.” Her eyes returned to Joslyn now—not to crush her hope, but to temper it. “You’ve got heart, girl. That’s clear. And you learn fast. But don’t mistake momentum for mastery. If you really want to fly, to build, to survive out here? You’ll need more than talent and a belief that books will be the only answer. You’ll need grit. And patience.”
She picked up her fork again, calm and unhurried. “Start slow. Learn right. Or next time, you won’t land in a hotel with hot food and helpful strangers. You’ll just… vanish. Like sparks in the void.”
Of course Joslyn knew it wasn’t just a weekend hobby – even magic required quite a bit of dedicated research, to take it seriously as you learned for it was far more complicated that what one would see on the surface. What they didn’t understand was just how fast she could consumed information, turn around and then apply it. That’s how she rose to Master so quickly, when most were beyond their middle-aged years before they got there.
She did not snap back, however, even if he pride was screaming for it. Unlike the other mages in the conclave, her teachers and professors, these people were only trying to make sure she was prepared for this strange new realm that she had so real experience with. So she kept her mouth shut and listened, finding that bit by bit the picture Virelya painted might require a little more than Joslyn sitting down with a pile of books and diagrams.
Starships appeared to be far more intricate and dangerous than any sea faring vessel. At least at sea, if you capsized you still had a chance of survival if you could float. Out in the stars, should something go wrong and not be repaired fast enough you were not just subject to being smothered without air, you could burst into flame or get shot off to fly away into the void!
All of these unfamiliar words, too… she’d need a dictionary to get through it. Thermodynamics, propellants, dampeners…! A license to fly the ship, material to maintain it. If it took Blue four years of training, plus eight years of prior experience, then for her it would take six years, not counting the additional education necessary to catch up with baseline of the average person in this realm.
Three thoughts stood out most starkly amongst the monsoon of information now swirling in her head.
Years. It’ll take her years in this realm to accomplish even a fraction of her mission.
Blue had been in a military and that was impossible to grasp!
Why would anyone in their right mind want to fly amongst the stars if it were that deadly!?
And just like that, the churning in her stomach had reappeared and that crushing weight of overwhelm. Her mission was not impossible, for nothing was impossible, but Joslyn had not been prepared for the reality that she might be spending the rest of her life here in pursual of her mission.
As a singular one.
“…I cannot argue with that,” she admitted after a long silent moment. Forcing herself to continue this means of a meal, as she did need to make sure she took care of her physical self if she were about to tackle a decade’s worth of advanced knowledge. “I shall start at the beginning, then, and work my way to the standard. It may as well be done properly and due care. If it takes a decade, then so be it. I can return home with an insurmountable collection of knowledge.”
“As long as you take the time proper,” Virelya said, her tone softer than usual—quiet, but no less firm. “I know your mission’s important to you. I just don’t want you rushing so hard toward the end that you forget to build the steps to get there.”
There was no scolding in her voice. No edge. Just an earnest concern, worn in the shape of someone who had seen too many people with bright eyes and broken plans. Her words fell gently, like rain tapping a windowsill.
“There’s a lot to take in,” she added, lifting her brows meaningfully. “More than most would ever want to. But you seem determined to do it all at once—and I just want to make sure you can, love. Not just try.”
Blue hadn’t said a word—but the way his gaze lingered on Joslyn said enough. There was a quiet pull in him. Not judgment, not even doubt—just that same careful wonder he carried with livestock and starlight. A hope, gently held in the cradle of his thoughts, that she wouldn’t burn herself out chasing a comet.
It was Virelya who broke the pause—but it was Blue who spoke first. His voice came without sound, threading into mind like wind curling through branches. “Is there a title higher than master?” he asked, the corners of his mouth lifting into a soft, lopsided smile. “You may be deserving of such, if you return to your world carrying more than any master has before.”
It wasn’t flattery. Just truth, plainly stated. “I think I still have a few books that could help you. Nothing fancy. But useful. If you’d like, I’d be happy to lend them.” There was a sincerity to his offer that didn’t press—just opened a door.
Virelya smirked, folding her arms over the table again. “We’ll worry about all that one step at a time. First thing’s first: you need to get grounded here.” She nodded toward the window beyond the dining room, where the glimmer of rain still traced silver lines across the glass. “Get to know the people in town. Dip your toes in. Ask bewildering questions. You’ll get a few stares, sure—but they’ll answer you anyway. It’s that kind of place.”
Then she lifted a hand and waved off any protest before it could form. “And no, I won’t hear a word about payment. This hotel’s your nest now, as long as you need it.” Her grin turned knowing. “We help each other here, Joslyn. No ledgers. No strings. You’ve got enough weight on your shoulders with that mission of yours—don’t let kindness feel like a debt.”
Across from her, a chair shifted as Blue rose. He moved quietly, gathering up the empty dishes without prompting, balancing them with practiced ease. Virelya gave him a look—a familiar one. He met it with that tilted, easy grin that always came before he did something helpful and just slightly disobedient. She didn’t stop him, though.
“Once you’re settled,” she said, turning back to Joslyn, “We’ll find you something more suitable to wear. I’ll mend your robes too, get them back into decent shape. You shouldn’t have to walk around looking like a thunderstorm spat you out.” She leaned back in her chair, watching her son move toward the kitchen with calm, efficient steps. “Thank you, little pulse,” she said quietly, as he passed. And the way Blue smiled—bare, warm, content—made it clear he’d heard her.
Joslyn did not really know what to do with this means of motherly care, for it more than anything else in this alternate realm was more foreign to her. It’s not as if kindness was this rare thing that she’d never experienced before, and certainly she was used to having people do things for her while she was more focused on her studies. Simply it made her uncomfortable, in the same way Blue and his strange aura made her uncomfortable. Joslyn knew how to bite, fight, snap, brace herself and give a verbal lashing right back to anyone trying to cut her down. She knew how to escape the physical too, not that she was worried about that in the moment.
Gentle kindness was hard to accept, especially when it was aimed in her direction.
And she did not need Blue making ridiculous statements such as her being something more than a master! It had that embarrassed flush making it’s reappearance and her giving an audible scoff. That’d certainly give all of those old geezers a good heart attack, wouldn’t it! Joslyn had never set up with the intentions to be a Master, but she was proud of the accomplishment and she’d be damned if she’d not accept her accolades.
Humble was not in Joslyn’s vocabulary.
“…then it is likely in my best interest to have a good bath and be dressed as the locals are before I go bewildering and harassing the people of this world.” she agreed easily. Wondering then if along with telepathy there was mind reading too, for of course she was wondering how she could repay them. Joslyn had lived her life with being served, but she was also aware that they needed fair compensation for such things. Seemed a bit unfair that she was now dropping into their life, potentially risking those lives, and was not going to give something of value in return!
Not failing to miss that exchange of warmth between parent and child. Yup still awkward, still unbelievable and foreign.
Footsteps had left then, soft and sure, to tackle the dishes and whatever other right mess might’ve been made in the kitchen. Blue’s quiet absence left behind a hush that filled the room like a settling breath.
Virelya lingered only a moment, eyes resting on the young woman across from her. Joslyn, strange and sharp and cracked with something older than her years, held the weight of the room without even realizing it. There was no pity in Virelya’s gaze—just consideration. Quiet understanding. And something more protective than words.
With a slow exhale, the so-called ivory goddess pressed her hands to the table and rose, the chair creaking faintly beneath her long frame. A hum followed her, low and idle, as if thinking aloud through music. “Well, come along then,” she said at last, her voice regaining its usual warmth. “Let’s introduce you to the comforts of the Hollow. You can call it your roost ’til you’re ready to fly off somewhere else.” She didn’t rush, merely tilted her head in the direction of the hallway, her posture loose but poised.
“And I suppose,” she added with a smirk that hinted at amusement more than mischief, “You can ask whatever questions you’ve got along the way. Most of us are strange here. But we don’t bite. Not unless asked nicely.”
Blue had not lied that things here in his home world seemed to take a pace akin to a casual summer stroll. It was even in the way his mother moved – without urgency, without worry – simply gliding along to lead the way through this quaint otherworld hotel as if she had guests like Joslyn everyday. Maybe she did! In a realm where there were millions of worlds and thousands of cultures, where one could travel amongst the stars and go anywhere, then it was likely to make contact with all kinds of people. Simple hard working people, layabouts and thieves, grand adventurers and lost mages on quests. Everything and more could come through a place like this.
Joslyn wanted to be excited and thrilled by the very idea, only there was still just that sense of churning dread in her stomach. A weight bearing down on top of her that she still didn’t know how to carry yet. She’d made choices too fast. It all happened too fast.
She nearly missed the open offer that she could ask questions, and the slight tease that came with it. Joslyn did in fact have a dozen questions, but not all of them were really worth the answering or… perhaps they were invasive of things she didn’t have the rights to know?
Well, one didn’t learn by being shy about it, did that.
“Your son does not seem the sort to join a military campaign,” she pointed out. “He is too soft and quiet and calm! If I were a murderous sort, or a conniving sort, i could have snatched his ship out from under him. Gentle souls shouldn’t even travel in my realm on their own where they might get ambushed and slaughtered by bandits, so it has to be thrice as dangerous, ten times as dangerous traveling the stars in hostile space.”
Joslyn paused mid rant, realizing in the moment none of that was actually a question at all, merely her own observations. She clamped her mouth shut with a huff, before trying again.
“I do wonder how one such as yourself had him. If his telepathy was natural born, or came from necessity because of his injury. I would like to ask about that as well, but I don’t wish to pry into painful history.”
Well, she hadn’t known what sort of questions Joslyn would ask. She’d expected inquiries about the location—what to expect, who mattered, what sort of trades the town thrived on. More about the world, maybe the environment. Practical things.
Instead, the little dot of tempest magic beside her was still spinning her curiosity around one particular subject: Blue.
Virelya didn’t stop walking, just turned slightly, gesturing Joslyn into a small, narrow room off the corridor they’d entered through earlier. It held four machines—two washers, two dryers—and a small half-table. She opened a nearby cabinet, revealing a neat stack of folded clothing in various sizes and styles.
With ease, she set the pile down and began laying out articles one by one, indicating that Joslyn should pick through and find what might suit her.
Still, she listened.
This brilliant girl—barely caught up with her own arrival—had already latched onto the bewilderment that someone like Blue had ever served in the military. It wasn’t a question. Not at first. Just a ramble of disbelief that was enough to make Virelya grin.
“And that’s why he was good in the military,” she replied simply, not looking up from her folding. “He doesn’t look or act like the type people expect. And that helps. Don’t let the gentle, fool you, dear—he’s survived things most people wouldn’t come out of with their heart still intact. And what you think may be too soft, too quiet and calm, is precisely the best things to have in the military. Ones who aren’t jumpy and startle at every noise.” She gave a shrug, pulled a massive cape-like item from the pile—easily big enough for ten Joslyn’s—and promptly set it aside. Too much fabric. Not enough person.
When the questions did form—clear, direct, fixated on Blue’s nature—they came with a different tone. Thoughtful. “Natural born,” Virelya confirmed as she smoothed out a dark tunic. “His father was an Eidhran—a telepathic offshoot of humans. They look like humans, more or less, but their minds… run deeper. Strong resonance. Some project emotions, others can dreamlink. You wouldn’t spot them unless you really knew what to look for.”
She paused, tugging at the corner of a garment that turned out not to be clothing at all. “…Why is there a bedsheet in here?” she muttered, then tossed it aside with no further comment.
“And no,” she added, glancing over her shoulder at Joslyn with a slight smirk, “He’s not mine biologically. My kind can’t reproduce with humans. Or their kin.” Then came the grin—the one that always meant trouble, or something very close to it. Virelya leaned in as though about to whisper a sacred secret. “You know how I got him. Turnip cart.” She said it completely straight. “Swear on my best kettle. He was just sittin’ there between a lopsided gourd and a basket of garlic like he belonged. Not crying, not fussing—just staring at me like I was late.”
Virelya shook her head, lips pursed in remembered bemusement. “No one claimed him. Been mine ever since. Could’ve been dropped by a trader or delivered by the gods, but either way, I found him fair and square. Between the vegetables.” She didn’t blink. Didn’t laugh. And though she’d just admitted to knowing his parentage, she gave Joslyn a sidelong look that said, If you want the truth, you’ll have to ask him.
Then, casually— “Anything you find suitable?”
It did not take a prodigy to recognize a laundry washing room when they saw it. If the linens weren’t enough to give it away, the smells surely did. The metal basins that did the washing, and apparently the drying too were curious things… Joslyn was going to have to get used to this and not be marveled at just how many different contraptions could be made simply to help do little jobs. There was no possible way she could learn how everything worked, she needed to prioritize.
Virelya gestured her towards the fabrics and things she pulled from the cupboards and Joslyn went to work sifting through them looking for something that would be suitable enough to fit for now. Appropriate colors to help her blend in and thes hardest task of all… actually fit to a small frame. She could be tailoring was still an important job even here in this realm, if not more so due to the sheer amount of differently shaped beings!
And while Joslyn did make a small scoff of doubt that Blue’s soft nature was exactly what made him well suited for a military career, she did listen and quickly come to agree that maybe it was true. Who would take such a man seriously in a battle? They’d think him harmless and he could do so many sneaky sorts of tricks.
..even still, she could not imagine him having to face off in a battle. Joslyn had experienced her very first with the demon from the rift. None with such a heart ever belong anywhere near something so grim. And seeing as he bore the scars of such a battle, he did not belong near danger himself.
As she sifting through pants with legs too long and tops with shoulders too wide, Joslyn almost took Virelya at her word of finding a baby in a vegetable cart. Ready to nod and agree that Yes! Good that she found the child before he got plucked up before she paused and cast a suspicious narrowing of those seaglass eyes in the ivory woman’s direction. Catching that mischievous minx expression.
A soft hum followed and she turned back to the linens.
“I think this will be fine enough,” she decided, pulling a dress that may have been a little too long in the length for her, but otherwise would actually fit her frame where it mattered without drowning her in fabric or being so tight that she couldn’t get it over her bust. The color looked like it was trying to mimic the peaches and pinks of the fluffy clouds in this world’s skies, and Joslyn found amusement in blending in quite literally with the world.
“His gift is rare in my world, and yet he says there is little magic here. Is that really true? With so many worlds and places that magic has no place? Maybe there is magic everywhere and it’s just name different things.”
“Merely ask if you need anything mended or adjusted,” Virelya said as she turned back to the pile, already refolding the articles Joslyn hadn’t chosen. Each piece tucked back with practiced precision—reset, ready for the next soul who might need a change of skin.
Her words were calm, not dismissive—just the smooth cadence of someone who’d done this more times than she could count. “Magic, here on Aelora, isn’t something we have,” she added, glancing up briefly. “By any name. We use tech, science, and a lot of stubborn fixing-what’s-broken. Always have.” Only that she paused. Not because she doubted—but because she knew better than to claim absolutes.
“That doesn’t mean magic doesn’t exist. Just not here. Other places, though?” Her lips tugged in a half-smile. “It’s out there. People call it different things—sometimes it’s wrapped in myth, other times dressed up in science. Might not look anything like yours, but it’s still something.“
Of course she was about to softly input her own knowledge regarding the limitation of child’s statement. “Blue doesn’t talk much about things he hasn’t seen,” she added with a shrug. “He’s been off-world plenty, but most of the places he visits are cities built on machines. Places where tech hums louder than heartbeats. You’re the first person he’s met who moves like magic’s in her breath. More akin to holo-novels.” Her eyes pressed to the girl, “Living stories that you get to interact within. Like a play.”
She slid the last folded item into the cabinet, shut the doors with a quiet click, then motioned with a sweep of her hand. “Come along, then. Let’s get you properly settled.” They stepped out of the laundry room, through a quieter corridor near the rear of the hotel. At the end, a square metal fixture waited—a lift built into the wall, smooth silver doors parting automatically as they approached.
“We’ll put you on the fourth floor,” Virelya said, stepping inside and waiting to be sure that Joslyn was aware the box wasn’t going to do something untoward or dangerous. “One of the corner suites. You’ll have your space. Good view, too. Best spot for clear thinking.”
She pressed the panel and leaned back against the wall with a hum. “Nice part about running the place,” she added with a grin, “is deciding who gets the good rooms.”
With the way things sounded, it made Joslyn wonder and worry if she could even do her own magic anymore. How much had been born and bred into her blood? What parts were tied directly to the lands of her own world? Where there going to be places she couldn’t seem to grasp it at all, or places where she felt as if she was swimming in it?
She’d been too afraid to try any of it while in the metal starship. Yet, she was certain there were still senses she had naturally born, that allowed her to feel certain things. Like the currents that flowed within the walls of this structure. Sparks of life within the bodies of living things when she opened herself up wide enough. That part was hers, tied directly to herself at least.
…the rest would require testing.
“He thinks I am a fairy tale?” she asked, wrinkling up her nose and then nearly breaking into a laugh. Preposterous. Not that she wasn’t completely extraordinary, a good lesson on ingenuity and hard work. What could be done when one was persistent and ambitious. However, she was no storybook damsel or pretty fairy. No a fire breathing dragon or knight on a mighty steed. Joslyn was simply a Master of Arcane.
…alright, maybe she was magnificent and worthy of storybooks. It was still a ridiculous thing!
Joslyn followed Virelya into this tiny little metal box of a room and in a split second those doors slide close and she could almost feel her skin crawling. Taking an almost stumbling step backwards when the tiny room started to move. With the ivory goddess’ hint of the fourth floor, she gathered quickly this was a means of going up faster than one might take the stairs. But Joslyn wasn’t so sure she liked this convenience! This tiny squished little box felt like an accident waiting to happen!
A good thing that she was fearless. Completely fearless.
“I appreciate the extra care given, though I hope it’s not going to create inconveniences for you later. I’m surely not going to complain or refuse it, however. I’d rather have hot baths and nice beds than be sleeping on bug riddled pine straw.”
“I mean, that’s one way of putting it,” Virelya replied with a wry smile, ushering Joslyn gently toward the lift. “Maybe not so concrete—but surely you might’ve thought our world a fairytale, too, if you’d read about it first.”
She pressed her palm to the panel, the doors of the elevator gliding open with a soft hiss. “You might still, once you get your hands on a holo-novel,” she added as the two of them stepped inside. “They’re immersive. Sometimes too much. Just don’t try one while eating.”
The lift moved upward in smooth silence, travelling through the vertical tube with all the mechanical grace of Aeloran tech. Within seconds, the doors opened again onto the fourth floor—a softly lit hallway lined with doors and patterned walls the colour of morning mist.
Virelya strode forward, confident in every step, stopping at a door tucked neatly into the corner.
She tapped her code into the number pad with two quick fingers, twisted the sleek handle, and swung the door open with a slight flourish. “Now,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder with a finger raised, “Don’t go worrying over things that don’t need worrying. This isn’t my first time helping someone in an… unusual situation. Whatever happens, happens. And you’ll handle it.”
She stepped aside, arm sweeping in invitation. “Bathroom’s through that door—shower and tub, hot and cold water. Sink, mirror, proper toilet. All the indoor plumbing and fancy things anyone could want.”
The room beyond was modern and serene, with soft recessed lights, an integrated kitchenette, and a tall view of the Morrow’s Hollow through floor-to-ceiling windows that flickered slightly with an ambient privacy field. Just to the right was a door to the outdoor balcony if she was inclined.
“I’ll be downstairs,” she added, as casually as if she were offering sugar cubes for tea. “My room’s on the main floor—says ‘Manager’ right on the door. Anything you need, day or night, just knock.” Virelya’s grin returned, quick and full of something conspiratorial. “Or shout, if that’s more your thing.”
Joslyn thought deeply about that… If she read tales of places like this would she believe them to be too fantastical, too unrealistic to ever exist? Of ships sailing through the stars, many, many worlds filled with all kinds of interesting new people, foods, things, creatures. Truly, it was difficult to even have a sense of wonder and imagination after one joined the conclave. At least in the way Joslyn had, consuming every bit of knowledge she could. To know all she could know about what was possible and still have that drive to try for what people claimed to be impossible.
Yet, when they’d stepped out of the horrifying moving box into the softly lit hall and Virelya introduce her to a room that was meant to be Joslyn’s for a short well… there the wonder was. Blooming anew, for here was a space she to call privately hers.
If there was ever a time to be concerned, it might’ve been on sight of the girl’s expression then. Like a wild racoon that’d just found it’s way into a kitchen and was about to get it’s hand on everything without an ounce of shame. Running hot water and a private kitchen? A room fit for a noble lady and Master indeed.
After a slow turn, she beamed her most elegant of smiles and gave the smallest of gentle bows,
“Thank you Virelya, mother of Beyon.”
Joslyn waited ever so patiently until the ivory goddess – truly a goddess, for she herself had a heart of gold the same as her son, Joslyn decided – had left the room, then, the snooping was unleashed.
Draping the peachy pink dress on the edge of the bed before Joslyn zipped over to open every single drawer, cubby, and console that moved. Stopped at a screen to poke at buttons – how was it she could read these and understand these people without a language barrier, she wondered? Common languages could evolve through multiple realms the same as people? She scooted just as swiftly into the small room deemed as a bathroom and that was just as interesting to poke around in. Learning how to work the water systems (a water flushing toilet might just be THE most important piece of knowledge she’d bring back to the conclave). A large tub to fill to her pleasure or to stand in a waterfall shower.
Joslyn did not hesitate a second to strip out of her filthy clothes and take advantage. Hot and steamy, stimulating heaven to wash away aches and pains she’d been ignoring in the wake of greater problems. Discovering with some discomfort that many of the spots she thought was just dried blood and dirt were in fact deep bruises and small wounds. Thankfully nothing too deep or concerning but…
She truly hadn’t stopped a second to access herself, had she. Not the state of her body, not the state of her mind….
…and she wasn’t ready to do it now yet either. Choosing instead to focus on the means of washing away the signs of battle, taking all the advantages she could of the endless hot water and the sweet smelling soaps until she might as well called herself a shriveled up prune with how long she lingered. Taking her sweet time as well in the means of getting dry with soft fluffy towels and a comfortable robe. Laying her dirty things upon a chair to deal with later, setting her weapon to the side, and finally pulling out that talisman gifted to her by the Master Olgoff.
The delicate silver thing was small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, inlayed with a pale blue stone and circled with some ancient runic language even Joslyn had yet to learn. It did seem like a very precious and ancient thing. While the Order had not come with her, at least she had been sent through with a connection back to her home.
She kept telling herself she was fine. Mostly because she wasn’t sure if she believed it. But she would be. Not the path she’d thought she’d take, as she said. Yet here she was and she would walk it.
Joslyn slipped the necklace over her head to wear it properly, then set about changing into the pale dress that looked like it was made out of this world’s very clouds. Tugging it down to smooth over hips and of course it was a little too long. Thank goodness for heeled boots. Once she’d tugged those on as well, at least the edges didn’t drift across the floor.
And then? Then it was time to explore. Joslyn had been paying attention to the use of buttons to activate many of these doors, so out the room she went into the hall and to that doomed box of moving metal. Giving it a hard scowl and a mental thread that she could kill it before it killed her (a mutual destruction as it would be), before she stepped inside and tapped those buttons to… somewhere! The ground floor, hopefully. Otherwise, well, she’d figure it out.