Names have power. In my first days of newborn confusion, still burbling song lyrics and bad puns inside my oversized baby head, I listened as voices in the ship called me… Zephyr. I guess if you're going to get a second shot at life in a shattered galaxy, you might as well have a name that sounds like a breeze that won't be tamed.
"Zephyr," my father, Kaelor, would say, deep pride coloring his words as if his voice alone could shape my destiny. "May you move through space as freely as the wind past the bows of dying stars."
I learned soon that names meant dreams; every family aboard the *Astral Dagger* carried stories in the syllables they chose. My mother, T'Lara, picked out the gentlest lullabies for me, weaving my name into each one. It was music, yes, but also a wish for freedom and greatness.
The *Astral Dagger* never drifted alone. T'Lara and Kaelor welcomed friends and allies aboard, travelers and traders the world over—well, galaxy over—who shared their hopes and rivalries. I met Aunt Rinya, a clever engineer descended from asteroid miners; Uncle Jax, whose jokes were only outclassed by his skill with shield arrays; and Vara, my father's childhood rival, now a master navigator in her own right with a top-tier ship always parked too close for comfort.
Dad's story was legend among them all. Born on a fringe world, he'd survived orphanhood by hitching rides on salvage crews, learning early that only strength and cunning made you more than dust in the void. Every blaster scar, every hacked star map, had made him what he was: not the strongest, but always ambitious—a peak-level cultivator who, despite everything, never stopped trying to break the next barrier. Some joked he'd studied under a cosmic black marketeer before going straight, but he'd always answer, "Every explorer's got a little chaos in their soul. The trick is not letting it sing lead."
General knowledge flowed with the conversations of those my parents trusted:
- The best cultivation resources were found in ancient ruins—assuming you could wrest them from whatever still haunted those halls.
- Mid-tier meant danger: too weak for real power, too strong to be ignored by rivals or space pirates.
- The "ruin market" was talked about in hushed tones, as both opportunity and risk—any family lucky enough to access it could change their fate, but it was as likely to betray as to bless.
- Upgrading your ship was as essential as strengthening your own spirit—a truly great explorer was the sum of flesh and forged metal.
These fragments filled my early days with possibility. My parents—Kaelor the storm, T'Lara the steady flame—had built not just a family, but a small universe around themselves, one filled with laughter, rivalry, and the relentless drive to turn hopeful beginnings into legends told around star-lit tables.
And in that growing harmony, I, Zephyr, vowed silently to myself: if the galaxy had a main theme, I'd find my verse in it—or rewrite the chorus entirely.