[ ORBIT: 563 ] - Kingdom of Nira

As I followed the faction leader down the hallway, I tried not to overthink things—but easier said than done. He'd already told me a bit along the way: the faction’s name was Envy Faction, and including him, there were currently five members.

We were headed to their base of operations. Apparently, the House of Guild and Academy had built quite a bit into this place, including full rooms dedicated to registered factions. They called them Faction Dormitories, and they were all located on the seventh floor—the highest level in the building.

By the time we reached the final flight of stairs, I could feel my nerves creeping in. I wasn’t exactly afraid, but… I didn’t interact with groups much. Not since I came here.

The leader stopped in front of a door and turned to me, smiling.
“Don’t sweat it. They’re not scary people.”

His attempt to reassure me helped a little, though I kept my expression composed.

“I’m fine,” I replied, quietly.

As the door creaked open, I stepped inside—and was immediately struck by the warmth of the space. It wasn’t large, maybe the size of two dorm rooms combined, but it was lived-in. Comfortable. Safe, even.

Polished wooden floorboards ran clean beneath my boots, catching the golden tint of the overhead lights. The ceiling was low, supported by exposed beams that gave the room a grounded, almost homely feel. A square table stood at the center—nothing fancy, just sturdy pine—surrounded by cushioned chairs whose sunken seats told of long hours spent here. A long bench, draped in faded fabric, hugged the far wall beneath a row of hooks holding scarves, light cloaks, and satchels. These people didn’t just meet here—they stayed.

On the back wall, a hearth sat quietly smoldering, its bricks smooth and sootless. A slim chimney carried the smoke somewhere I couldn't see. A kettle sat on the iron grate, steam curling up in thin spirals—peppermint and lemongrass. Above the mantle, a shelf held books neatly stacked spine-to-spine, an hourglass half-drained, and a small lacquered box, probably holding game tiles or writing tools. It was too intentional to be random. Too cared-for to be a coincidence.

This wasn’t just a base. It was theirs. A chosen home for people like me—displaced, driven, trying to find meaning or maybe just stability.

I scanned the room and spotted four figures: one slumped back, softly snoring with her shirt opening up to her chest; another tucked into a book, legs crossed and brows furrowed in focus. The third—

Wait.

That face. Blonde. Familiar. I squinted slightly, narrowing my gaze—
No. There's no way. Is that—

I was pulled from the thought by the leader, who stepped forward with his usual grin.
“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together, “let’s do some proper introductions.”