By the time my feet could wobble a few determined steps across the Dagger's deck, the *Astral Dagger* was more than a ship—it was a living stage, and I was finally a part of the ensemble. It wasn't easy: the corridors twisted unexpectedly (no doubt a prank by Jax and Rinya's helper bots), and I was forever getting tangled in stray cables or stubbing my toe on an ancient relic. But every day, my world expanded.
Dad, Kaelor, started teaching me the basics of cultivation. I tried not to look too smug when my meditation hummed with more rhythm than most starship engines. "See?" I thought to myself. "All those years practicing scales and breathing exercises finally did something cool." Of course, T'Lara watched with her usual peace, always ready with a gentle correction or a soft smile when my budding cosmic energy vibrated a little out of control.
It wasn't all lessons and home ship antics. The galaxy outside pressed in, reminding us that danger and opportunity orbited hand in hand. On a rare quiet evening, Lys—the trader with the starmetal arm—brought news: strange signals had been picked up from a derelict ruin-field in the Fenris sector. Not just static, but patterns. Songs, almost.
"The market will want it," Lys said, eyes gleaming. "So will pirates. So will anyone trying to break their tier ceiling." Even the bots paused to listen—no one joked when ruin-market rumors floated in the air.
Suddenly our ship buzzed with preparation. Jax double-checked shields, Pim harvested extra healing herbs (just in case), Vara sent encrypted advice: "Don't get greedy. The last family in Fenris never came back—unless you count their distress beacon."
Through it all, I watched, soaking up details: how Kaelor's eyes sharpened, how T'Lara's calm steadied even the fidgetiest crew. How unity became our greatest strength.
In the quiet before launch, Dad sat with me at the viewport, his voice low and full of rare softness. "There's music out there, Zephyr—older and wilder than any we've ever played. Promise me, no matter what, you'll listen for the true notes beneath the noise."
So I touched the cold glass, gazed into the starlit sea, and nodded. Every adventure begins with a spark, but it's the harmony you build along the way that shapes your song.
And as the engines flared and our family shot into the unknown, my new life's chorus rang out: Encore, Zeph. The real show is just getting started.