The ship touched down just beyond the village ridge, where the air shimmered with dusk and the scent of fruit ferment. Lanterns already swayed between the trees, their light catching in the wheat-gold grass that waved like a living sea.

Rue stepped down first, boots crunching on the packed earth. The villagers gathered fast—smiles wide, hands outstretched, eyes gleaming under the twin moons. She’d seen battlefields welcome her with less warmth.

An elder woman approached with a bowed head and a bundle wrapped in cloth. “Commander,” she said softly, voice thick with reverence. “You’ve brought us breath again. The medicines you left kept our children through the frost. The Grove remembers.”

Rue inclined her head, expression unreadable. “The Grove feeds all of us. We only carried what it gave.”

The elder smiled, pressing the bundle into her hands—a charm of woven roots and crystal dust. “Then carry our thanks back to the stars.”

Behind her, Prism crouched beside a group of kids unsealing a crate. The moment the top popped off, blue holo-lights whirled into the air like tiny spirits. The children gasped, chasing them in delighted circles.

“See? This is why I like Aerthos,” Prism said, grinning sharp. “No credits, no contracts. Just kids thinking my tech’s magic.”

Amaya arched a brow. “You don’t need children to think that. You do that fine yourself.”

Prism smirked, flicking her tail. “Jealousy’s unbecoming, Lieutenant.”

“Respect is too rare to risk,” Amaya replied coolly.

Their bickering broke under a new sound—giggles, high and bright. Two little girls rushed forward, each clutching a handful of hand-carved charms strung with feathers. “For the blue one!” they chirped proudly. “And for Miss Loo-ma! She glows like morning!”

Prism froze mid-grin. “Blue one?” She looked down at the gifts, then at the girls, mock-offended. “What—no title? No ‘Most Gorgeous Shark of the Sector’? Just Blue One?”

The girls giggled harder and fled, scattering feathers.

Amaya hid her smile behind her cup. “Be grateful, Prism. The last village labeled you ‘Please Don’t Bite.’”

Prism’s gills flared. “Wow. Branding myself as a menace wasn’t on my bucket list, but here we are.”

Rue brushed past them, silent but faintly amused, as more villagers appeared with baskets of bread and bottles of honey-fruit wine. The air warmed with laughter and the hum of Aerthos’ pulse.

They followed the elder through winding paths until the village opened into a clearing. The lodge rose at its heart—stone and wood carved from living root, each wall threaded with glowing veins of light. It was humble, sturdy, and quiet—the kind of place that remembered every voice that had ever slept inside it.

“Your rooms are ready,” the elder said, gesturing toward the broad entryway. “The Grove breathes easier when your kind return.”

Prism whistled low. “Rustic chic. And hey, look—new curtains since last time. Don’t say Aerthos doesn’t spoil us.”

Rue set down her satchel. “They spoil the Grove, not us.”

Prism leaned close, grin sly. “Sure, Boss. Keep telling yourself that while you carry Miss Loo-ma’s gift baskets up the hill.”

Rue’s wings twitched, just once—enough warning to make Prism throw up her claws. “Kidding! Totally kidding.”

Amaya swept past them both, her tone mild as she entered the lodge. “If you two are finished flirting with unemployment, I’d like to review our Grove charts before dawn.”

Prism rolled her eyes and followed, muttering, “Yeah, yeah, Mom.”

Inside, the air was warm and sweet. Lanterns hung low over a carved table set with bread, fruit, and steaming cups of floral tea. On one side of the room sat an enormous glass tank patched with sap resin and labeled in crooked handwriting:

FOR THE BLUE ONE (Please No Bite)

Prism stared. Long. “Oh come on. It’s back?”

Rue passed by without a word.

Amaya smirked faintly. “It’s a tradition now.”

Prism pointed at the tank, affronted. “A tradition of insulting me?! This thing’s older than Rue’s patience!”

Rue didn’t even look over her shoulder. “Be grateful.”

Prism huffed. “Grateful? I’ll show gratitude when it stops leaking.”

Amaya’s tone turned dry. “Then perhaps consider breathing through your gills somewhere else.”

Prism groaned but crouched beside the tank anyway, muttering. “Fine. Good thing I hauled parts from the ship for my gift. The Blue One Deluxe—coming soon to absolutely no one.”

Rue finally allowed the faintest smirk.

“Try not to flood the lodge.”

They unpacked in silence. Outside, the village lights dimmed one by one as the Grove’s resonance deepened into its night cycle.

Amaya took her tea to the window, watching the moons settle low over the fields. “Whole planet sleeps before the Summit,” she murmured. “Still feels strange, doesn’t it? A world that trusts the dark.”

Rue stood at the door, eyes distant. “The dark never betrayed them.”

Prism sank back against the couch, stretching her arms with a yawn. “Well, here’s to not being the first. Maybe we’ll actually get one night of peace.”

Amaya gave a quiet, knowing smile. “Doubtful.”

Rue didn’t reply. She watched the wind ripple through the wheat, listened to the far-off hum of villagers singing lullabies to their crops.

For the first time in months, the shadows at her heels rested.

The lights dimmed.

The Grove breathed.

And as Aerthos fell into silence, the storm of the coming Summit gathered just beyond the horizon.