Verdantis Nexus was quiet in the mornings.
Mist clung to the terraces and drifted in from the river that cut through the cavern valley. The rainforest above filtered the light, leaving everything dim, green, and damp. Water moved constantly here—through irrigation channels, down stone steps, over roots that had grown into the village itself.
It was peaceful.
That was the point.
Tlandar Varn walked beside a herd of luma cattle, guiding them with a simple staff. He didn't need to strike them. A tap against the soil, a slow rhythm, and they followed.
Most people in Verdantis didn't raise their voices unless they had to.
They weren't warriors.
They were caretakers.
The Asemeri had come to Astashica long ago through a temporal portal, fleeing the collapse of their first realm. They had arrived with almost nothing except memory, soul-resonant craft, and the sacred metal they called Kuprix.
Here, they had tried to build something different.
An Oasis.
Tlandar adjusted the strap of his satchel and glanced toward the cliffs in the distance. Pale crystal pillars jutted from the stone like jagged teeth. Even from here, you could feel them—not physically, but in the way the air seemed charged.
The elders said the crystal network formed the Veil.
A protective shell around the planet.
Outside it, time fractured.
Inside it, Astashica endured.
Tlandar didn't understand the mechanics of it. He only knew it was the reason they were still alive.
His father was waiting near the irrigation gate.
Kaelis Varn stood with his arms folded, watching the cattle pass. He was broad-shouldered, built from years of labor, not combat.
"You're late," Kaelis said.
Tlandar gave a small shrug. "They wandered uphill again."
Kaelis almost smiled, but the expression didn't stay.
"They've been restless."
"They're animals," Tlandar said.
Kaelis looked past him, toward the cavern opening where fog thickened into shadow.
"Animals notice things before we do."
Tlandar hesitated. "You think something's coming?"
His father didn't answer immediately.
Peace in Astashica was real, but it was never guaranteed. The older generation remembered what it meant to lose a world.
Kaelis finally spoke, quieter.
"Stay close today."
Tlandar frowned. "Why?"
Kaelis's eyes dropped briefly to the staff in his hand. Along its length ran thin threads of Kuprix, faintly shimmering.
Pure nickel memory-alloy.
It didn't exist anywhere else in the universe.
Not on other planets. Not in the void between stars.
Only here.
Only in the realm they had lost.
Most Kuprix was kept stored away now—armor and blades sealed like relics. The Asemeri didn't want to become a people of war again.
But Kuprix was still a reminder.
Astashica was rare.
And rare things drew attention.
The first scream came just after midday.
It cut across the terraces so sharply that the cattle jolted in place.
Tlandar turned his head.
Another shout followed.
Then the sound of something breaking.
Smoke began to rise above the far grain storehouse.
Villagers were running.
"Inside!"
"Get the children!"
Tlandar's heart tightened.
Then he saw them.
Dark craft dropping low through the mist.
Skimmers.
Fast, angular, unfamiliar shapes slipping over the terraces.
For a second, his mind refused to place them.
Then the markings on their hulls registered.
Ixtielan.
His stomach went cold.
The Ixtielans weren't soldiers. They weren't here for territory or strategy.
They came because they loved it.
The Ixtielan marauders loved bloodshed and loot, and Verdantis Nexus was simply their next prize.
The skimmers struck ground hard. Doors opened. Figures leapt out, armored in scavenged plating, carrying blades and shock-staves.
Torches flew.
Flames caught instantly.
People screamed.
Tlandar stood frozen as the world he knew cracked apart.
A neighbor fell into the mud clutching his side. Another villager tried to pull him back and was struck down as well.
This wasn't a battle.
It was slaughter.
"Tlandar!"
His father's voice snapped him back.
Kaelis was running toward him, grabbing his arm hard enough to hurt.
"Move!"
"Father—"
"Now!"
Kaelis shoved him toward the lower tunnel entrances carved into the valley wall.
Families were already pushing through, sobbing, stumbling over each other.
Tlandar's mother, Almira, was there with his younger sisters clinging to her.
Her face was pale.
"Tlandar," she said, voice shaking. "Please."
He swallowed hard.
The air was filling with smoke.
The cattle scattered in panic.
Verdantis Nexus was burning.
They almost reached the tunnel when something slammed into the ground nearby.
A raider.
Tall, helmeted, holding a hooked blade.
Its head turned toward them.
Tlandar's father stepped forward without thinking, placing himself between the marauder and his family.
Kaelis had no sword.
Only a farming blade.
The raider let out a sound that might have been laughter.
Tlandar felt something twist violently in his chest.
He raised his staff instinctively.
The Kuprix threads along it hummed faintly, responding to his fear.
The raider tilted its head.
Then—
Everything stopped.
Not just around him.
Everything.
The smoke hung motionless.
The flames froze mid-flicker.
The raider was locked in place as if time itself had tightened.
Tlandar's breath caught.
The world had gone unnaturally still.
A presence filled the space behind him.
He turned slowly.
A woman stood there.
Pale-haired, her feet not quite touching the ground. Light shimmered around her—not blinding, but unmistakable. Her eyes were steady, ancient.
"Tlandar Varn," she said.
Her voice wasn't loud.
It was clear.
It felt like it was inside his mind.
His throat went dry.
"Who… are you?"
The woman's gaze flicked toward the burning village.
"I am the Spirit of Astashica."
Tlandar's hands trembled.
"This is… real?"
"Yes."
Her eyes returned to him.
"The Oasis is under siege."
Tlandar's voice cracked.
"This is just a raid—"
"It is not just a raid."
She lifted her hand, and the air seemed to pull open.
Tlandar's vision shifted.
He saw the sky above Astashica.
Saw the Veil, faint as crystal glass.
And beyond it—
A massive vessel circling like a predator.
It had wings.
Not decorative wings.
Wyrm-like wings stretching wide across the darkness.
And inside it…
something watching.
Something hungry.
Cosmus.
The Azurevat Wyrm.
Tlandar stumbled back, nearly falling.
"He's real…"
"He has always been real," the Spirit said.
"He wants this world. He wants the Oasis. He wants worship."
Tlandar shook his head, panic rising.
"I can't stop something like that."
"You were not chosen because you are strong," she said.
"You were chosen because you are pure."
The stillness around them trembled, time ready to move again.
Tlandar's eyes filled with tears.
"My family—"
"Go," the Spirit said simply.
"Save them. Live. And when the time comes, you will stand."
Her form began to fade.
"Tlandar…"
He looked up.
"You are not a warrior," she said.
"But you will become a protector."
Then time snapped back into motion.
Smoke rushed.
Fire roared.
The raider lunged again—
And Tlandar ran.
Not toward war.
Toward survival.
Behind him, Verdantis Nexus fell.
Above him, the Wyrm circled.
And Astashica had begun to choose its champion.