The dream always started with the sound of tearing.

Valode Medu floated in a void that wasn't completely dark, nor blindingly white, but both. Above, the sky was screaming. It wasn't the wind; it was the atmosphere itself igniting.

Val looked up. The twin suns of Rahmori—Kira and Talma—were there, locked in their eternal dance. But between them, something was wrong. A tear in the fabric of the sky. A third point of gravity. A shadow that was eating the light.

DONG.

A bell tolled. It wasn't a sound Val heard; it was a vibration that rattled their teeth.

DONG.

Below Val, the world was glass. Not the smooth, paved streets of Tsujan, but jagged, broken shards of obsidian. A battlefield.

"Hold the line!" a voice shouted. It sounded like Selu, but stronger. Younger.

"We can't!" another voice screamed back—a woman’s voice, wet with tears. "Li, we can't hold it!"

DONG.

The shadow in the sky expanded. The white light turned to ash. Val reached out, trying to grab the woman’s hand, but their fingers passed through smoke.

"Wake up," the shadow whispered. "They are coming."

Val gasped, their body jerking upright in the silk sheets.

"Heart rate elevating. Cortisol spike detected."

The mechanical voice cut through the panic. Val blinked, the blinding white of the nightmare fading into the soft, artificial gold of the Royal Bedroom.

Standing at the foot of the bed was Prim, the Royal Watcher. Its illuminated face was static, its eyes glowing with a soft scanning laser. It was a hologram being that could manipulate the physical world through light and minor mechanical parts—one of the creations that came from the union of Rhubiti and Tsujan.

"Another episode, Heir Valode?" Prim asked, its voice perfectly modulated to be soothing, which only made it more terrifying. "That is the third this week. The Council suggests increasing the dosage of the Dream-Suppressants."

Val rubbed their face, their hands trembling. The sweat on their skin felt cold. "No. No more meds, Prim. They make my head feel like it’s stuffed with wool."

"The nightmares are a symptom of an unbalanced mind, Heir," Prim stated, stepping closer with a hypospray. "A chaotic mind cannot rule."

"And a drugged mind cannot think," Val snapped, sliding out of bed on the opposite side. "I said no."

Prim paused, its processors whirring. "Noted. I will include your refusal in the morning report to Vassaj Vaelor."

Val froze. "Don't tell the Vassaj. Gwen will hear, and you know how she worries."

"Protocol dictates total transparency for the safety of the Heir," Prim droned. "Your parents request your presence in the Crucible of Will. Today is the Accord of Expansion. You are to lead."

Val sighed, looking out the window. The city of Tsujan was waking up. Val peered at the figure-8 clock on their nightstand; 01 // 11 Flare stared back at them. Val enjoyed waking up with Kira, bright and early at the top of the Ark like clockwork. The massive solar arrays were turning to catch the first rays. It was a utopia of gold and light.

So why did Val feel like they were suffocating?

The Crucible of Will was designed to make you feel small.

The floor was polished obsidian, reflecting the flames that lined the walls. There were no chairs, only thrones carved from pure light-conductive crystal.

Val stood in the center, waiting. This was the theater of the Kassaj (The Council).

The doors groaned open.

"Selu," Val whispered, seeing the tall man enter first.

Selon Medu, the King Consort, looked tired. His robes were heavy with gold, but his shoulders slumped under the weight. He offered Val a small, tight smile.

"Stand tall, Valode," Selon murmured as he passed, gripping Val’s shoulder. "Zhajul is watching."

"I am ready, Selu," Val replied, straightening their posture.

"Good. And remember... stick to the script."

The rest of the Council filtered in. Vassaj Vaelor, the Fire Enforcer, looked worse than usual. His skin was ashen, cracking like dried mud over magma. He wheezed into a silk handkerchief, sparks of raw plasma flying from his lips.

Then came Vassaj Lojmon. The Master of Intelligence. He moved silently, taking his seat in the shadows of the third pillar. His face was obscured, but Val noticed his finger tapping rhythmically against the armrest of his throne. Tap. Tap. Tap.

And then, the heavy hitters.

Zhajul Sen-Ren, the Head of the Vassaj. He didn't walk; he glided. His skin glowed with the bioluminescence of someone who had consumed too much pure Avajt (Light Energy).

And flanking him, Gwen.

Val’s Yihen (Kin). Gwen wore the full plate armor of the High Guard Commander. Her helmet was off, revealing her severe, beautiful face. Her violet eyes locked onto Val’s immediately—scanning for injury, for weakness, for anything wrong.

She gave a barely perceptible nod. I am here. You are safe.

Val relaxed slightly. As long as Gwen was here, the sharks wouldn't bite too hard.

"Heir Valode," Zhajul’s voice boomed, amplified by the acoustics of the room. "We are discussing the expansion into the Rajas Sector. The Wastelands."

"The Forsaken Lands," Vaelor corrected between coughs, his voice raspy and wet. "Nothing but dust and old relics."

"Exactly," Zhajul said, settling onto his throne. "Which is why we must claim it. To bring Order to the Chaos. But... who shall rule it is the better question?"

They began to bicker. Vaelor coughed that his Fire-Walkers were best suited for the heat. Lojmon argued from the shadows that Rhubiti needed the land rights for infrastructure.

Val stood there, the "perfect heir," ignored and decorative.

But as they argued, Val felt a pull. Not a physical one, but a tug in their chest. Like a fishhook in their heart, pulling them... Northwest. Toward Rajas.

It’s calling, a voice whispered in Val’s head. It wasn't the nightmare voice. It was softer. Like a hum.

"If I may," Val interrupted.

The room went deadly silent. Interruption was not in the script. Gwen tensed, her hand drifting to her sword hilt.

"The Heir speaks?" Zhajul asked, amused.

"The Flame speaks in the present," Val said, improvising, channeling the confidence they didn't feel. "We can debate logistics here in the comfort of the Light, or we can go to Rajas. Let the land tell us who it belongs to."

Zhajul studied Val. His glowing eyes narrowed. He was looking for a reason to be upset, but Val kept their face a mask of serene duty.

"A survey," Zhajul mused. "Led by the Heir. It would show the people your dedication."

"It’s dangerous," Gwen cut in sharply. "The atmospheric storms in Rajas are unstable."

"Then you shall protect them, Commander," Zhajul smiled—a cold, reptile expression. "Prepare the transport. We go to the Wastelands."

Location: The Rajas Sector (The Wastelands) Time: 03 // 22 Flare (The Waking Ark)

The wind in Rajas didn't whistle; it screamed.

The reddish-purple sand whipped against Val’s protective goggles as they walked away from the landing zone. The Vassajoriru were back at the ship, arguing over mining rights, but Val had walked away.

The pull was stronger here. It was a physical vibration in the earth.

Come.

Val climbed a dune of jagged red rock. Below, half-buried in the sand, was a ruin.

It wasn't Tsujan architecture. It wasn't the white marble of the Council or the glass of Khijan. It was deep purple stone, carved with faces that seemed to be weeping.

"Valode!" Gwen’s voice shouted over the wind, far behind them, glaring, hoping another set of eyes didn't notice them. "Come back!"

Val ignored her. They slid down the dune, landing at the entrance of the ruin.

The air inside was stagnant. It smelled of ozone and... rain?

Val walked into the dark chamber. The walls were covered in sigils Val didn't recognize—spirals and waves.

In the center of the room, on a simple pedestal, sat a stone.

It was small, rough-hewn, hanging from a leather cord. It looked worthless. But as Val stepped closer, the humming noise became deafening. It wasn't noise; it was music. A chord of perfect harmony.

Val reached out.

Don't, a survival instinct screamed. Take it, the blood in their veins answered.

Val’s fingers brushed the stone.

SNAP.

The world turned grey.

The howling wind vanished. The red desert vanished.

Val was standing in a void of pearlescent lavender mist. Time didn't exist here. There was no wind, no sound, only a profound, heavy Stillness.

Floating in the lavender mist were pillars of Water, and inside them... visions flickered like holograms. Val saw faces. Thousands of them. Ide in strange clothes, wielding powers Val had only read about in forbidden tales.

"The Anchor holds," a thousand voices whispered at once.

Val looked down. The stone was glowing in their hand—not with light, but with a swirling prism of colors.

"What are you?" Val whispered.

"The space between," the voices answered. "The breath before the scream. Wake up, Harmonic Thread."

SNAP.

In an instant, they were back in the sand, yet this time, everything looked different. The once desolate beach was filled with families laughing. The sky was illuminated with the twin suns, Kira and Talma, each decorating the sky with purpose. It felt so familiar, Val could almost swear they'd just seen it.

"Are you ready for the annual ritual?" A voice called from behind them.

What ritual? Val thought, yet as they thought the words, their own mouth began to move on its own.

"Well," Val began, "I'm not technically included in the ritual, I just get to observe this year." Val went on, rubbing at their stomach, feeling the unnatural heaviness of two lives growing where there should only be one.

"Sure," the voice softly went, pulling Val into a hug. "But just think of what that means. This is big for the Elders in Training. It means the honor is ready to be handed down."

Val focused on the voice, a familiar one they were very acquainted with. Evelyn? Val questioned.

"Evie..." Val began to shift in discomfort, looking down at their swollen belly. "I don't know if everyone is right about this. Something in me tells me I won't be able to do it. Not the ritual... the birth. I don't think I can survive bringing them here."

Val’s voice—Li’s voice—cracked. "I need to plan for when I'm not here. I need to make sure Sel will be fine without me. There's just—"

As Val began to spiral, Evelyn placed a hand upon their shoulder, pulling them in.

"Okay, okay... So we plan. Listen... I see why they believe in you, but you know what they do not. If preparing will make this easier then we will do that tonight. But... in the event that you can pull this shit off—and let's be real, if any Ide can, it's you—then we don't close those doors just yet. We've still got some time to figure it all out, and we'll do it together."

Tears began to fill Val's eyes, leaning deeper into the other's hold. "But Evie, please don't tell anyone. Sel too! I want it to be only you to know. And if I don't make it, promise to look after them... All of them. You know the spirits better than anyone."

As Val's thought concluded, the world around them morphed again like a wave. The beautiful beaches and trees were now in total stillness. Val knew the feeling better than anything. It was the Arc of the Void.

"01 // 54 Fade is the time. One more pulse before the Arc. Everyone in their places." The voice sounded distant, muffled, like listening to someone talk while underwater. Everything seemed to move fast.

"11 // 11 Void! Assume positions!"

Time seemed to speed. Val watched themself observing from a podium, everything around looked exactly like their dream. Val quickly put two and two together, then panic set in.

In an instant, everything shifted once more, placing them in the sand of the beach, back at that space of their dreams.

"Hold the line!" a voice shouted. That same voice that plagued their nightmares.

"We can't!" another voice screamed back—a woman’s voice, wet with tears. "Li, we can't hold it!"

Val gasped, sucking in air as if they had been drowning.

The grey void shattered. The red desert slammed back into existence. The heat hit Val like a hammer.

Val stumbled back, clutching their chest. Their heart was hammering a rhythm that wasn't their own.

"Val!"

Gwen skidded down the dune, grabbing Val by the shoulders. Her face was pale with terror.

"Valode, look at me!" Gwen shouted, shaking them. "You... you froze. You just stopped."

"I..." Val blinked, trying to clear the grey spots from their vision. "I just... the heat."

"You were gone," Gwen whispered, her eyes wide. "For a few Echoes, Val. You didn't look like you were even breathing. Everything froze."

Val looked down at their hand. It was empty. The stone structure was nowhere in sight.

No.

Val felt a weight in their pocket. The stone was there. Warm. Pulse-syncing with their own blood.

"I'm fine, Gwen," Val lied, forcing the "Royal Smile" onto their face. "Just a dizzy spell. Low hydration."

Gwen stared at them. She knew. She didn't know what, but she knew Val had crossed a line.

"We are leaving," Gwen said, her voice shaking. She grabbed Val’s arm, her grip bruising. "Now. Before Vaelor sees."

As Gwen dragged them back toward the ship, Val kept their hand in their pocket, fingers curled around the stone.

The silence of the desert wasn't scary anymore. It felt like an answer.

Valode Medu was going home. But for the first time in their life, they weren't scared of the darkness.

They had brought a piece of the shadows with them.