A month changed everything and nothing.
Kota woke to the now-familiar sight of purple-tinged sunlight streaming through the glass-like window, the luminescent vines already dimming as the twin suns climbed higher. His arm—the one that had been torn open by that nightmare creature—barely ached anymore. The wound had closed completely, leaving only a raised scar that he traced sometimes when he couldn't sleep, remembering the pain, remembering Marcus fighting to give them time to escape.
He didn't know if Marcus had survived. Didn't know if he'd ever know.
The thought still hurt, but the sharp edge of it had dulled over the weeks. Survival had a way of pushing grief aside, making room only for the immediate needs: food, water, safety. Tomorrow's problems, not yesterday's losses.
Outside, he could hear the familiar rustling that meant their neighbor was awake.
Kota pulled on his pants—the same ones he'd been wearing for a month, now stained and worn but still functional—and stepped out into the main room. Aisha was already up, sitting by the pool and washing her face. She'd gotten better at managing her torn clothes, using strips of fabric to tie things in place, but she still wore his shirt most days. He'd gotten used to going without it.
"Morning," she said without looking up. "Dumpling's already out there. I think he's waiting for us."
"Don't call it that."
"Why not? He's round and squishy and kind of adorable."
"It's a creature from another world, Aisha. It's not a pet."
She finally looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "He's been helping us find food for a month, Kota. He knows we're not a threat. He comes to visit us. That's basically a pet."
Kota wanted to argue, but he knew it was pointless. Aisha had named the thing within the first week, and now she talked to it like it could understand her. Maybe it could—the creature did seem to respond to her voice, its antennae twitching in what might have been recognition.
He hated that. Hated how comfortable she was getting with it.
These creatures—all of them, from every world that had spilled through those gateways—had destroyed everything. They'd killed his parents. They'd forced humanity into walled cities, turned half the world into a nightmare wasteland. They were the reason he and Aisha were trapped here, the reason Marcus might be dead.
But Aisha saw a round, harmless thing that led them to food, and she called it Dumpling.
"I'm going to work on the weapon today," Kota said, changing the subject. "I think I'm close to getting it right."
"You've been saying that for two weeks."
"This time I mean it."
She smiled, standing and stretching. The movement made his shirt ride up slightly and Kota immediately looked away, focusing very intently on the vines growing along the wall.
A month together. A month of sharing this space, of bathing in the same pool, of sleeping in the same room. A month of trying very hard not to notice things he definitely noticed.
"I'm going to gather more fruit," Aisha said, either not noticing his discomfort or politely ignoring it. "Dumpling usually knows where the good ones are."
"Be careful."
"Always am." She grabbed the makeshift bag they'd woven from vine fibers and headed for the entrance. "Don't cut your fingers off with whatever you're building."
"That happened once."
"Twice."
"The second time doesn't count. That was barely a scratch."
Her laugh echoed back as she disappeared outside, and Kota was left alone with his thoughts and his project.
The weapon—he couldn't quite bring himself to call it a sword, not yet—lay in pieces across the floor of what they'd started calling the workshop. The room with all the hanging wires and hoses had become his domain over the past few weeks, a place to tinker and build and try to create something that might keep them alive if another creature found them.
He'd been practicing with his stick every morning, going through the basic forms he'd seen awakened fighters use back in Okala. Swing, block, thrust, parry. Over and over until his arms burned and sweat dripped into his eyes. It wasn't real training—he had no teacher, no technique, just muscle memory from watching others—but it was something.
But a stick wouldn't be enough. Not against the things that lived in this world.
Kota knelt beside his materials, taking inventory. Sharp metallic fragments he'd pried from collapsed structures. Wire—both the thin copper kind and thicker steel cables. A section of hose that was rigid enough to serve as a handle but flexible enough to wrap. And his tools: a sharp rock for cutting, a heavier one for hammering, and patience.
So much patience.
He'd watched Marcus work in his shop back in the outskirts, seen him weld and shape and create. Marcus had made his own weapon—a brutal thing that was half machete, half club, designed for fighting creatures in close quarters. He'd explained the process once, talking about balance and weight distribution and how a weapon was only as good as the person wielding it.
Kota wished he'd paid more attention. Wished he'd asked more questions.
But he hadn't, because he'd been a kid who thought he had time. Who thought Marcus would always be there to teach him.
He pushed the thought away and focused on the work.
The blade—if he could call it that—was the hardest part. He'd found a piece of metal that was already sharp along one edge, probably part of some alien tool or structure. It was roughly the length of his forearm, curved slightly, and when he tested it against a vine it cut clean through.
The problem was attaching it to a handle in a way that wouldn't fall apart the first time he swung it.
Kota wrapped wire around the base of the blade, creating a tang of sorts, then began the painstaking process of threading it through the hose material. The hose was tough, resistant, and his fingers were soon aching from the effort. Twice the wire slipped and he had to start over. Once he wrapped it too tight and the hose split.
But slowly, gradually, it came together.
He used the thicker cable to reinforce the connection, wrapping it around and around until the blade felt secure. Then he tested the balance, holding it like he'd seen fighters hold their weapons, feeling the weight of it.
It was crude. Ugly. The kind of thing that would make any real weaponsmith laugh.
But it was sharp. It was solid. And it was his.
Kota spent the rest of the morning refining it, adjusting the grip, making sure nothing would slip or break. By the time the first sun reached its peak, his hands were covered in small cuts and his shoulders ached, but the weapon was done.
He stepped outside into the alien daylight and took a practice swing.
The blade cut through the air with a satisfying whistle. The weight was good—heavier than his stick but not so heavy he couldn't control it. He went through his forms, the movements feeling different now, more real, and for the first time since arriving in this world he felt like he might actually be able to defend them if something attacked.
"Dumpling" was nearby, its gelatinous body rippling as it moved through the luminescent grass. The creature's antennae twitched in Kota's direction, sensing the movement, but it didn't seem alarmed. Just curious.
Kota stared at it, at this thing from another world that Aisha had befriended, and felt that familiar anger rise in his chest.
Your kind did this. Your kind destroyed everything.
But the creature just sat there, harmless and round, its many legs tucked beneath its body, and Kota couldn't sustain the anger. Not really. This thing hadn't killed his parents. Hadn't forced them through a gateway. It was just... here. Living. Surviving, same as them.
He lowered the weapon and went back inside.
Aisha returned as the first sun began its descent, her bag bulging with fruit. She was humming—actually humming—and there was color in her cheeks that hadn't been there a month ago. The alien food agreed with her. With both of them, really. They were eating better here than they ever had in the outskirts.
"Good haul," she announced, setting the bag down. "Dumpling found a whole grove of those disk fruits. We're set for days."
"That's good." Kota was sitting against the wall, his new weapon across his lap, still making minor adjustments to the grip.
"You finished it!" Aisha crossed the room, her eyes bright with interest. "Can I see?"
He handed it over and watched as she examined it, turning it over in her hands, testing the weight.
"It's heavier than I expected," she said.
"Has to be. For cutting through... things."
"Things like creatures from other worlds?"
"Yeah."
She was quiet for a moment, then handed it back. "It's good work, Kota. Marcus would be proud."
The words hit harder than he expected. He had to look away, focusing on the blade, on anything except the sudden tightness in his throat.
"Thanks," he managed.
Aisha started unpacking the fruit, arranging them by the pool where the cool water would keep them fresh longer. She was halfway through when she stopped, her hand frozen in the bag.
"Kota? Come look at this."
He set the weapon aside and joined her. She was holding something small, turning it over in her palm.
It was an amulet.
The design was strange—multiple circles, each one nested inside the other, creating a pattern that seemed to shift when he looked at it too long. The metal was dark, almost black, but with veins of something lighter running through it like cracks in ice. And there was a feeling to it, a presence that made the hair on his arms stand up.
"Where did you find this?" Kota asked.
"In the grove. It was just... lying there, half-buried in the grass." She held it out to him. "What do you think it is?"
He took it carefully, and the moment his fingers touched the metal he felt it—a pulse, like a heartbeat, thrumming through the amulet and into his hand. It wasn't painful, but it was definitely there, definitely real.
"I don't know," he said honestly. "I've never seen anything like it."
They examined it together, turning it over, looking for markings or inscriptions or anything that might explain what it was. The circles seemed to be the only design—no words, no symbols, just those nested rings that hurt to look at for too long.
There was a wire looped through the top, thin and delicate, creating a loop that was too small to fit over someone's head but too large for a wrist. Right in between, like it was made for something that wasn't quite human-sized.
"Should we keep it?" Aisha asked.
Kota felt the pulse again, stronger this time, and something in his gut told him this was important. That finding this wasn't an accident.
"Yeah," he said. "I'll hold onto it. Just in case."
"In case of what?"
"I don't know. But it feels... significant."
Aisha nodded, accepting this without argument. They'd learned to trust their instincts in this world, to pay attention when something felt wrong or right or important.
Kota slipped the wire loop over his wrist, letting the amulet dangle there. It was too loose, sliding up and down his forearm, but it would do for now. The pulse continued, steady and rhythmic, like a second heartbeat.
They spent the rest of the day in their usual routine—eating, talking, planning. Aisha told him about the grove, about how Dumpling had led her straight to it like he knew exactly what she was looking for. Kota told her about finishing the weapon, about how it felt to finally have something more than a stick.
They didn't talk about home. Didn't talk about Marcus or Yuki or whether they'd ever see Okala again. Those conversations led nowhere good, just circles of grief and uncertainty that left them both hollow.
Better to focus on tomorrow. On surviving one more day.
Night fell, and with it came the familiar glow of the vines, the floating lights drifting past their window, the alien beauty of a world that wasn't theirs.
"I'm going to wash up," Kota said, standing and stretching. His muscles ached from the day's work, and the pool's strange water always seemed to help with that.
"Your turn," Aisha agreed. She was already settling into her corner of the sleeping room, his shirt pulled tight around her. "Don't take forever. I want to wash my hair."
"Five minutes."
"You always say that and it's always twenty."
He didn't argue because she was right.
The pool room was dark except for the glow from the vines, their light reflecting off the water's surface in rippling patterns. Kota stripped down to his underwear—they'd long since gotten past the awkwardness of that, mostly—and slipped into the water.
It was cool but not cold, and the moment he submerged his aching muscles began to relax. He dunked his head under, letting the water wash away the day's sweat and grime, and surfaced with a gasp.
The amulet was still on his wrist, the wire loop loose enough that it had slid down to his hand. He should probably take it off, keep it dry, but the pulse was stronger now, almost insistent, and he found himself curious.
What would happen if it got wet?
Probably nothing. It was metal, after all. Metal didn't care about water.
But something made him hesitate, made him hold his wrist above the surface for a moment longer, the amulet dangling and dripping.
Then, almost without deciding to, he lowered his hand into the water.
The reaction was immediate.
The amulet pulsed—not the gentle throb he'd felt before, but a violent surge of energy that lit up the entire pool in brilliant blue light. Kota jerked back, but the light followed, spreading through the water, climbing up his arm, racing across his skin like lightning.
"What the—"
The light intensified, so bright he had to close his eyes, so bright it shone through his eyelids and painted the inside of his skull in electric blue. He could feel it now, not just in his hand but everywhere, flooding through his body like the water itself had become energy.
The pulse became a roar. The roar became everything.
And then, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.
Kota opened his eyes, gasping, his heart hammering against his ribs. The pool was dark again, the vines providing the only light. The water was still, undisturbed, like nothing had happened.
But something had happened. He could feel it.
He looked down at his wrist, at where the amulet had been dangling.
It was gone.
"Kota?!" Aisha's voice, panicked, from the other room. "What was that light? Are you okay?"
He tried to answer but couldn't find his voice. His whole body felt strange—not painful, but different. Foreign. Like something had been added that wasn't there before.
The door burst open and Aisha rushed in, her eyes wide with fear.
Then she stopped.
Stared.
Her face went from pale to bright red in an instant.
"I—you're—" She spun around, covering her eyes. "Put some clothes on!"
Kota looked down at himself, at his soaked underwear, at the water dripping from his body, and felt his own face heat up despite everything.
"I was bathing! You're the one who barged in!"
"There was a light! A really bright light! I thought something was attacking you!"
"Well, nothing's attacking me, so you can—" He stopped, the words dying in his throat.
Because something was different. Something inside him had changed.
He could feel it now, really feel it—a presence in his chest, in his blood, in every cell of his body. It was foreign, alien, like something that didn't belong but had made itself at home anyway.
And with it came strength. Not physical strength, though he felt that too, but something deeper. Something that hummed with potential, with power, with possibility.
"Aisha," he said quietly. "Something happened."
She turned back slightly, still keeping her eyes averted. "What do you mean?"
"The amulet. When it touched the water, it... I think it went inside me."
"Inside you? What does that mean?"
"I don't know." He climbed out of the pool, water streaming from his body, and grabbed his pants. "But I feel different. Stronger. Like something woke up."
Aisha finally looked at him fully, her embarrassment forgotten in the face of this new development. "Stronger how?"
Kota flexed his hand, feeling the energy move through him, responding to his will. It was subtle, barely there, but definitely real.
"I don't know yet," he said. "But I think... I think something just changed."
They stood there in the dim light of the pool room, two kids from the outskirts of Okala, alone in an alien world, and Kota felt the presence inside him pulse once more—steady, strong, and undeniably there.
Whatever the amulet had been, it was part of him now.
And nothing would ever