"Some beginnings do not come after endings.
They arrive with the silence that follows survival."
The temple did not tell him to go.
The system issued no command.
But Elai felt something shift—like the rhythm of the world beyond had changed its pattern just enough to be heard. Not a call. Not a pull.
A question.
So he left.
He stepped past the mouth of the mountain, where the obsidian veins met the snow. The wind greeted him—not cold, not warm, just present.
It circled his ankles, drifted over his skin, like the sky trying to remember him.
The ground ahead unfolded into a vast plain, its borders carved by black ridges and faint, distant mountains that shimmered under a high aurora sky. No sun watched here—only swirling light, twisting between color and cloud.
The field was flat, but alive. Pale blue grasses shifted slightly, even when the wind stilled. Patches of moss glowed near the stones. Strange flowers blinked open as he passed them, then slowly closed again, like eyes that never needed sleep.
The Loth-wolf trotted beside him in silence.
He didn't know where he was going. But the Force did.
It bent the world gently forward beneath his steps.
The system stirred.
[Primary Phase: Survival Initiated]
You have exited protected zones.
You now walk without shelter, fire, or guidance.
[New Condition Triggered: Prolonged Exposure to Untamed Wilderness]
Observation Mode: Active
[Force Affinity Shift Detected: Environmental Harmony]
Tracking adaptation to nature through instinct, resilience, and presence across open terrain.
Elai moved deeper across the field. His feet were cold, but his body did not tremble. The moss beneath the surface warmed slightly where he stepped. The wind did not resist him.
He approached a rise in the plain—a small hill marked with long stones in a perfect spiral. Some had fallen. Others hummed faintly, like tuning forks buried in the earth.
When he stepped into the circle, the sky above them pulsed.
He sat down in the center.
The wolf circled once, then lay at his side.
The silence was not empty. It was full of waiting things.
Elai closed his eyes.
The Force did not move through him—it settled around him.
And something beneath the earth listened.
Far away—in a nameless system just beyond the fraying edge of reliable charts—Eno Cordova stirred from stillness.
He sat cross-legged in the quiet heart of his vessel, a meditation chamber lit only by the soft pulse of suspended holocrons and navigation stars. The hum of the ship faded long ago into background rhythm. His thoughts were not on war, nor peace—only echoes.
He had felt it before.
Once.
A ripple.
Subtle. Almost forgotten. A brush of presence against the edge of the Force like a note played too softly to be noticed—but not too soft to matter.
He had chased it. Quietly.
Moved a system away.
Waited.
Not even knowing why.
Until now.
It came again.
The second ripple.
Not loud.
Not radiant like a Jedi master entering battle.
Not cold like the tremor of Sith rage.
This was something... deeper. Older.
A pulse of alignment.
Eno's eyes opened slowly. His brow furrowed.
He stood, the quiet pressure of the Force still lingering in his chest—not urgent, but persistent. Not like a voice speaking to him... more like the memory of a voice, echoing across a chasm he hadn't meant to cross.
His astromech whirred from the navigation socket in the corner.
The droid trilled inquisitively.
"Was that it again?"
Cordova nodded slowly. "Yes. Stronger now. Closer. Like… a flame deciding whether or not to burn."
The droid chirped something snide in response. Cordova smiled faintly, distracted.
"No. Not Jedi. Or Sith. Not trained… but present."
He turned back to the holomap, fingers moving through the starmap projection.
"It's a child," he said at last, voice distant. "Or a place. Or both."
"Still hidden… but not by accident."
He closed his eyes again, reached with the Force—not to find, but to listen. The ripple was faint, but it reverberated with something ancient. Not power. Not pain.
Balance.
Something was happening out there that the Order had forgotten how to feel.
He opened his eyes.
"Plot a new course," he told the droid.
"Outer edge of the sector. No registered planets. Just shadow and dust."
He paused, then added quietly:
"There's something living there the galaxy has forgotten.
And I intend to remember it."
The stars in the viewport shimmered as the ship turned toward a deep void.
And the Force, though silent, watched.
Back on the plains, Elai opened his eyes.
His legs had long since stopped aching. Cold brushed over his skin, but his body no longer flinched from it. He moved like one born to the silence.
Above him, the clouds had thickened. The wind had stalled.
And then—
The first snowflake fell.
It spiraled lazily through the air, crystalline and soft, coming to rest on his shoulder. It did not melt.
Another followed. Then more.
Snow curled around his ankles in twisting wisps, not driven by storm, but drawn down gently, like the sky was laying a cloak across the world.
He looked up.
No ships. No sound.
But something was shifting.
Beneath his feet, the ground hummed faintly.
And somewhere deep inside the temple, past the hidden vaults and slumbering circuits, an ancient node blinked to life.
Not in alarm.
But in acknowledgment.
A presence had entered the system's sensing field.
Not within the chamber.
Not within the walls.
But far away.
A ripple felt. A presence inbound.
The temple stirred.
It whispered through the air. Not words. No warning.
But recognition.
Elai stood still, listening.
The Loth-wolf raised its head beside him, fur dusted in soft frost. Her silver eyes narrowed toward the far horizon, where the ridges broke and the light beyond thinned.
There was nothing yet.
But something had begun.
A new message shimmered faintly across his inner vision—etched in light that pulsed once and stilled.
[SYSTEM RESPONSE: QUEST PHASE COMPLETE]
[Subtask Complete: Field Alignment Achieved]
[Stat Increases:]
Endurance +1
Willpower +1
[Elemental Resistance +2 Passive: Terrain Attunement(Hibernation Trance)]
[Environmental Stage Complete: 1 / 5]
[Next Alignment Available: Snow]
Elai didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
The system had taught him well.
Instead, he stepped forward, just once, into the thickening field.
Snow touched his arms. His hair.
He let it fall. Let it linger. Let it teach.
And far above, where clouds met silence, the Force stirred again.
A thread had formed.
Thin. Distant. Real.
Someone was listening.
And they were coming.
The snow thickened.
Not as a storm. Not as dangerous.
But as silence made visible.
Elai moved slowly across the field, each step pressing softly into the growing layer of white. The Loth-wolf padded beside him, her fur nearly indistinguishable from the snowfall itself.
He didn't seek shelter.
He sought stillness.
The system shimmered in his vision, not with commands—just presence. Waiting. Responding.
His quest had not asked him to survive the snow.
It asked him to understand it.
So he sat.
He lowered himself to the base of a jagged ridge where frost curled around obsidian like roots around bone. The wind sang gently between the stones. Crystals grew along the edges of ancient rock, their light dim but pulsing—like they were breathing along with the snow.
Elai closed his eyes.
The cold crept in. Not sharp. Not cruel. Just... absolute.
It slowed his muscles. His heartbeat. His thoughts.
He didn't fight it.
He let it surround him. Sink in. Learn from him.
He didn't know how long he remained there.
Time passed like falling flakes — impossible to count, impossible to grasp.
But when his eyelids opened again, the world had changed.
A shallow layer of ice had crept over his skin like glass. Not painful. Not brittle. It shimmered faintly with the same soft glow as the crystals on the ridge.
He moved one hand — slow, steady. The frost gave way like it had never been there at all.
He stood again.
Changed.
Not tougher.
Quieter.
More prepared for what silence required.
And the system completed the response:
[SYSTEM RESPONSE: QUEST PHASE COMPLETE]
[Subtask Complete: Snow Alignment Achieved]
[Stat Increases:]
Endurance +2
Wisdom +1
Stability +1
[Passive Unlocked: Cold Adaptation(Hibernation Trance)]
Reduces sensory and biological reaction to low-temperature conditions. No penalty in subzero Force-aligned zones.
[Elemental Progress: 2 / 5]
He opened his eyes.
And far above, just beyond the edge of the clouds—
A ship descended.
Eno Cordova leaned over the navigation console, eyes narrowed.
The ship's scanners pulsed once, then again, and returned static.
No energy signatures.
No power readings.
No lifeforms.
Only cold.
Only silence.
And yet...
The Force had brought him here.
He pressed two fingers to the edge of the console, reaching out with his mind. A ripple extended from him—gentle, practiced, fine-tuned through decades of meditative discipline.
It hit nothing.
No reply.
Not even a vague sensation of life.
He frowned. "This is the right place."
The astromech chirped skeptically.
"I didn't say it made sense," Eno muttered.
The Force wasn't absent.
It was just silent.
Or worse—hiding something. Or someone.
Eno glanced toward the viewport. Snowstorm clouds twisted far below over jagged mountain ridges, lit by auroras that pulsed like veins in the void.
"I'll wait," he said at last, drawing back from the console.
"Whatever is down there… it's not ready to be found. Not yet."
The ship entered slow orbit.
And in the world below, a boy sat beside the white wolf as snow began to fade.
Waiting.
He smiled—faintly.
Not because he had won anything.
But because he understood something now.
The white cub trotted along the ridgeline, her paws light against the snow's crust. She stopped at the edge, ears twitching, then looked back. Elai followed her gaze.
Below lay a frozen basin, rimmed by jagged blackstone and half-buried vines—a lake beneath glass. The surface shimmered under the dim light of auroras. What snow had fallen there was smoother, untouched, as if the world itself was still deciding whether to breathe on it.
Elai descended the slope carefully. The snow gave way beneath his steps, soft but not treacherous. At the lake's edge, he paused, then stepped onto the surface. The ice shifted beneath him, groaned faintly like it remembered the last weight it held. But it didn't break.
He walked to the center and sat—cross-legged, quiet, steady.
The cold didn't reach him now.
His palms pressed against the surface.
Still.
Still.
Then...
A pulse.
Deep below, beneath frozen stone and slumbering sediment, a hidden spring pulsed once. Like a distant heartbeat—or a memory.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just there.
A quiet yes.
He smiled again.
Not because the world answered.
But because it had been listening the whole time.
The silence thickened—not in threat, but in presence. It pressed around him like fog that understood his shape. The snow had stopped falling. The air had gone still. The Loth-wolf stood at the edge of the lake, watching with silver eyes.
And then…
The temple called him.
Not with sound.
Not even through the system.
But through knowing.
A pressure in the chest. A thread around the spine. A whisper not made of words—but direction.
A request.
A welcome.
Return.
He rose.
The ice did not crack. It let him go.
The wind stirred just once—as if acknowledging the completed lesson—and then faded again.
The Loth-wolf turned toward the mountain.
And Elai followed.
Elai did not return with haste.
The path home—if it could be called that—unfolded beneath his steps like a road remembering how to exist. The snow had softened behind him. The wind curved along his shoulders without resistance. The world, once indifferent, now acknowledged him.
Ahead, the mountain watched.
And as he crossed the final slope where white faded back into stone, a pulse echoed beneath his feet. Not seismic. Not sound.
Memory.
The temple was remembering him.
No door opened. No command was given.
And yet, the mountain welcomed him inside.
Stone parted without friction, revealing the ancient corridor that had once first swallowed him whole. Now it pulsed faintly with the color of invitation—soft white, deep gold, threads of slow, guiding light.
He stepped inside.
The Loth-wolf followed without hesitation.
The voice came not as a whisper, but a resonance. Not words. Intent.
"You return changed."
"You are not finished. But you are no longer beginning."
"What was denied, now awaits."
The corridor stretched wider as he moved, the air warmer—not from heat, but from presence. At the far end, a chamber he had never entered now stood open. And within—
Crystals.
Not one.
Hundreds.
They floated in slow rotation throughout a vast, starless chamber—some cracked, some glowing, some silent and cold. The walls curved high above like a dome of black glass, etched with symbols that moved when he blinked.
His steps slowed.
The crystals moved around him—not toward him, not away. They responded.
Red flared once—then dimmed.
Blue shimmered—then rotated away.
Green flickered as if unsure.
A golden shard pulsed too fast.
None came to him.
He walked the length of the chamber, past spirals of hovering kyber, each rotating in patterns older than speech. The Loth-wolf waited at the door. Silent. Watchful.
And then—
He passed a column of motionless light.
Two fragments turned in unison.
Not toward him—but with him.
One was pale white, pulsing with a quiet rhythm that resonated in his chest. Not warm, not cold—clear. The other was black—not dead, but still. Like a storm before sound. It shimmered faintly as if reflecting stars that hadn't been born yet.
They spun around each other once.
Then drifted gently to his outstretched hand.
They were not fused.
They were not fighting.
They were dancing.
He closed his fingers around them, and they did not resist.
[Item Acquired: Twin-Core Kyber Shards]
"One light, one shadow. Do not force harmony—let it become."
As his fingers curled around the shards, the chamber darkened—not with threat, but with conclusion.
But one final shape lingered in the center of the room.
Not a person.
Not a voice.
Not even a ghost.
A presence, shaped like an idea forgotten by time, shimmered faintly before him. As if the temple had tried to take form, and only managed to echo its own purpose.
From within it, something emerged.
A codex.
Old. Floating. Wound in spirals of light and silent history.
Elai stepped forward.
The codex pulsed once, opened without hinges—then folded inward, collapsing into a glyph shaped like a question, and sank into his chest.
[Codex Acquired: Breathpath Trial — Interrupted]
[Data incomplete.]
[Training aborted due to external events.]
[Status: Locked.]
[Awaiting synchronization trigger.]
The presence faded.
No farewell.
Just understanding.
The walls dimmed. The crystals resumed their drift. The room released him.
Elai turned without words.
The Loth-wolf was already walking. It knew where to go.
They stepped back into the world.
The path down led to a ridge of flattened snow—hardened by wind, wide enough to land something large. As if the world had been preparing a stage.
The sky overhead had darkened. The auroras pulsed slowly. In the distance, clouds curled like they were holding their breath.
Elai sat in the center of the field.
Snow crunched beneath Elai's feet as he stepped away from the landing plateau. The Loth-wolf followed in silence, its ears twitching toward sounds only it could hear—low vibrations carried through frozen earth, echoes of something ancient shifting beneath the crust of this forgotten world.
He didn't know why he was walking here, not exactly.
But the Force had grown denser around him, like fog thickening just before rain. Each footstep felt guided—not by instinct alone, but by alignment. A pull.
The valley dipped downward toward a hollow cleft in the land. There, nestled between sheets of slate and crystalized ice, a curved alcove waited. Its stone was darker than the mountain above, smoothed by age and touched faintly by moss that pulsed gold under his approach.
At its center: a narrow depression in the rock, shaped like a cradle. Made for sitting. Or… sleeping.
He understood then.
Not with words.
With certainty.
The quest had not been to breathe with nature.
It had been to survive in stillness.
He sat.
The Loth-wolf curled beside him.
Elai held the twin-core kyber shards in his hand. They pulsed slowly—warm and cold, in harmony. He placed them over his chest and closed his eyes.
[Quest Complete: "The Crystal Sings Softly (Light)"]
[Subtask Complete: Light Crystal Alignment Achieved]
[Resonance Detected: Clear Kyber Shard]
The shard responds not to dominance, but clarity.
A voice like still light hums in sync with your rhythm.
[Attunement Confirmed.]
[Stat Increases:]
Force Connection +1
[Trait Unlocked: Kyber Clarity (Passive)]
You resonate more easily with Light-aspected kyber and Force domains rooted in stillness, patience, and inner peace.
[Quest Complete: "The Crystal Waits in Silence (Dark)"]
[Subtask Complete: Dark Crystal Alignment Achieved]
[Resonance Detected: Obsidian Kyber Shard]
The shard responds not to control, but presence.
It accepts your silence. And reflects it back.
[Attunement Confirmed.]
[Stat Increases:]
Focus +1
[Trait Unlocked: Kyber Depth (Passive)]
You resonate more easily with Dark-aspected kyber and Force domains rooted in reflection, gravity, and still waters.
[Quest Completed: "The Path Does Not Wait"]
[Dual Kyber Resonance Achieved]
Light and Dark have circled. Neither rejected.
Their harmony forms a thread through you.
You have not mastered them — you have welcomed both.
[SYSTEM RESPONSE: QUEST PHASE COMPLETE]
[Primary Elemental Synchronization Achieved]
Elemental Harmony: 5 / 5 Complete
Emotional-Force Stability Threshold: Passed
[Stat Increases:]
Natural Harmony +2 (Hidden Stat Unlocked)
[Stage Complete: Transitioning to Next Phase…]
He lay back, and the system did not protest.
The hollow curved around him like a second cradle. His body slowed—pulse, thought, temperature. Not sleeping. Not stasis.
Stillness.
For the first time, the system offered no instructions. No notifications. No next step.
Because this wasn't learning.
This was becoming.
The Loth-wolf rested its head across his ankles, and together they vanished into something deeper than dreams.
And above them, the world exhaled.
Not as a metaphor.
As Force.
In the quiet chamber of the vessel, Eno Cordova's eyes snapped open.
The holomap flared softly before him, lines of hyperspace lanes blinking like veins beneath a pulse. But none of them mattered now.
Because the signal had stabilized.
Not a scream. Not pain. Not even confusion.
Harmony.
"Do you feel that?" he asked aloud, though only his astromech was listening.
The droid beeped softly, then rotated its dome toward the console. A long, low whine followed—a soft confirmation.
"Coordinates are holding. No decay this time. That means it's not accidental," Eno muttered. "It's a choice."
He paced once, then stopped at the viewport. Beyond, stars shimmered quietly—ancient watchers that rarely interfered.
"Whoever it is… whatever it is… they've just stepped into something deeper than training."
He tapped the console.
Course locked. Time to arrive: 3 minutes.
He closed his eyes one more time.
And in the Force, he felt it again:
Not a person screaming to be found.
Not a beacon.
Not even a Jedi.
Just a thread. Tied. Waiting. Real.
Elai sat motionless on the frost-stiffened ground, hands resting over the twin-core kyber crystal now warmed against his chest. The cold no longer bit, and the silence no longer pushed.
Beside him, the Loth-wolf cub stirred.
She didn't whine, didn't bark. She simply nudged her muzzle beneath his arm and leaned close—quiet, steady, present. Not as a pet, not as prey, not even as equal.
As a companion.
The system responded—not with words, but with purpose.
[Hidden Quest Complete: The Bond That Walks Beside]
Requirement Fulfilled: Emotional resonance achieved
Companion: Force-Affined Loth-Wolf (Designation: Unknown)
[Skill Unlocked: Animal Bond Passive I]
"Speak to the wild through presence, not command."
Note: This skill does not apply to current companions.
Condition: Companion exceeds standard life form parameters.
Elai didn't know what the message meant, not fully. But the moment the words disappeared, he felt something click beneath his skin—like a door opening inward.
Not to power. To understand.
The cub remained at his side. She didn't vanish. She didn't shift. She simply looked at him.
And for the first time, he understood the silence between them wasn't empty. It was deliberate. It was a connection.
Not mind to mind.
But soul to soul.
Eno Cordova leaned forward in the pilot's seat, watching the faded planet swell into view below. Snow veiled most of the surface, but through the long-distance sensors, one thing was certain:
A pulse had emerged.
Not a flare. Not a cry.
A signature of alignment.
"One minute to descend," the astromech announced.
Eno tapped the manual override. "Bring us in slow. Keep altitude low until we confirm visuals."
The droid hesitated, chirping quietly, but obeyed.
As the ship angled lower, cutting through a sky thick with snow-ice particles, the sensors adjusted to match the energy signature he'd tracked from afar. It was clearer now—steady, not chaotic. Unmistakably alive. But unlike anything he had felt in decades.
"Who are you…?" Eno murmured.
Through the canopy, a break in the ice field revealed itself: a wide, flat plain. And there—sitting like a carved statue from forgotten myth—was a child.
No flinch. No attempt to run.
Just presence.
Cordova drew in a breath, not in ritual, but in awe.
"He's not afraid," he said aloud.
The ship descended smoothly. No alarms. No resistance. The Force itself did not repel them—it allowed them to land.
It welcomed the visitor.
But it had already chosen the host.
With a soft hiss, the ship touched down on the open ice. The ramp lowered into the cold.
Eno Cordova stepped out. Snow crunched beneath his boots.
The wind carried no words.
And still, the child did not move.
Not until the Jedi Master took five careful steps forward, lowering his hood.
Only then did the boy's head lift—slowly, deliberately.
Not afraid. Not hostile.
Expectant.
Cordova's heart skipped once.
He knew.
This was no foundling.
This was something… waiting.
The child opened his eyes.
They were still. Calm. Not frightened. Not demanding.
Just watching.
Beside him, the white Loth-wolf rose in unison—silent, alert, unshaken by the ship now resting in the valley behind them.
Master Eno Cordova stood a few paces away, his robes fluttering faintly in the highland wind. He said nothing at first. His gaze drifted from the child to the wolf and then back again, watching the snow settle around them like falling time.
The Force stirred.
Not urgently. Not powerfully. But with recognition.
Like the planet itself knew it was time.
"You've been here a long time," Eno said quietly.
The child didn't nod. Didn't speak.
Instead, he reached into the folds of his tunic and slowly held up a kyber crystal—the twin-core shard, soft and radiant with opposing light. Even from a distance, Eno could feel the weight of it. A crystal like that didn't choose randomly.
It waited.
"Where did you find that?" Eno asked, almost to himself.
The child's voice came soft and clear. "It Chose me."
Cordova felt something shift inside him—a quiet understanding layered over awe. He looked to the Loth-wolf, its blue eyes steady and unreadable.
Then back to the child.
There were a thousand questions ready on his tongue. What was this world? How long had the boy survived? Who were his people? Why now?
But the answers would come.
Eventually.
He stepped forward, not fast, not hesitant. Just presence.
He extended a hand.
"Come with me. If the Force placed you here… then maybe it's time someone helped you find what's next."
The child looked at the hand for a moment.
Then stood.
And nodded.
The Loth-wolf followed without a sound.
The ramp of the ship accepted them with a soft hiss.
Inside, the temperature shifted to warmth, lights adjusting to the presence of three living beings. The vessel itself was sleek, worn but elegant—designed more for exploration than combat. The walls were a brushed silver alloy, traced with soft gold circuit filigree. Holoprojectors lined the hall, dim and inactive. Symbols in old Jedi High Galactic adorned several of the interior panels.
The child touched nothing.
Not out of fear—but awareness.
He stepped carefully, taking it all in. Every light. Every panel. Every change in sound.
Curious.
In the central chamber, Eno guided him to a seat, then moved to the cockpit. The console flickered to life beneath his touch, and with practiced movements, he began lifting the ship off the frozen world.
Through the viewport, the planet fell away below—its black ridges and snow-covered plains slowly giving way to clouds, and then stars.
No alarms.
No interference.
No sign of the ancient temple.
The console registered nothing. As if the boy had been born from silence.
Eno stared through the viewport, then down at the blank sensor logs.
"The Force hides what it wants to protect," he said quietly.
"And reveals only when it's ready."
Behind him, the boy sat still. Watching. Listening.
The Loth-wolf lay at his feet, unmoving.
A child. A companion. A crystal. A question.
Eno didn't know the answers yet.
But something had begun.
And he would not walk away from it.
He turned.
The boy sat cross-legged on the floor of the ship's main chamber. Silent. Unmoving. The white Loth-wolf lay curled beside him, a sentinel made of snow and shadow.
But Cordova saw more than stillness.
He saw thinness.
Not in the boy's presence—there was nothing small about that.
But in his body.
The cheeks were too hollow.
The arms, too lean.
The way he sat—graceful, yes, but too still, like someone who had gone long without comfort… or nourishment.
Cordova stepped forward slowly. "When's the last time you ate?"
The child looked up, curious. "...What's that?"
That stopped him.
Eno didn't sigh out of pity. Just recognition.
He crossed the chamber to the side galley, flipping open the compact kitchen console. The unit whirred softly to life, dispensing a gentle heat. From the storage compartment, he pulled sealed rations—root packs, preserved broth concentrate, grain mash—simple supplies he'd barely touched on his last expedition.
As the meal simmered, warm aromas filled the vessel. Savory and earthy, with faint spice. It wasn't gourmet. But it was real.
Behind him, he heard it.
Not words. Not movement.
Just... a shift.
He glanced back.
The child's posture had changed.
His spine was still straight, his eyes still watching—but something in the way his shoulders settled, the way the wolf lay her head across her paws... it changed.
For the first time, the boy seemed to relax.
Cordova returned with the bowl—modest, wooden, worn smooth by age—and placed it in front of the child. He didn't say "Eat." He didn't need to.
"There's no rush," he said instead. "We're not in a hurry."
The child didn't answer. But he reached for the bowl with both hands—carefully, reverently, like it was a gift he didn't know if he was allowed to accept.
The Loth-wolf sat up, ears twitching. Cordova took a second bowl, poured half of the mash into it, and placed it gently before her. She sniffed once, then began to eat—slow, cautious, measured.
The boy watched her.
Then, slowly, he mirrored her pace.
Not like a wild creature.
Not like someone desperate.
Just someone remembering what it meant to be cared for.
Steam curled from the bowl between his fingers. He didn't blow on it. He didn't flinch from the warmth. He just held it close, letting the scent rise toward him like something sacred.
Cordova returned to his chair.
He didn't interrupt.
He just sat nearby, watching the stars outside shift as the ship cleared the edge of the system. One by one, the constellations tilted. Space unfolded ahead like a path waiting to be walked.
And in the Force—quiet and unshaken—something responded.
Not with command.
Not with fear.
But with something older.
Acknowledgement.
[System Update: New Location Logged — Cordova's Vessel | The Dantari Hope]
[Bond Progressed: Elai + Loth-wolf]
[Condition Restored: +3 Vitality
[Stat Gained:]
Energy +2
The boy finished the first bowl slowly, eyes focused on each motion as though memorizing the act itself. But when Cordova brought him another—this time with slightly thicker grains and a touch of warming herbs—he accepted it without hesitation.
He didn't speak.
Didn't thank him.
But he held the second bowl more confidently, his hands no longer trembling at the warmth.
The Loth-wolf curled back down beside him, content, tail flicking now and then against the polished floor. She didn't eat the second portion Cordova set aside—she simply nudged it, as if sensing it wasn't needed right now.
Eno leaned against the nearby bulkhead and watched.
This wasn't a warrior.
Not yet.
It wasn't even a student.
It was a child—a child who had survived gods-knew-what, and now sat in silence, eyelids growing heavier with each mouthful of warmth.
Halfway through the bowl, Elai blinked slowly. Then again.
The spoon paused in his hand.
He blinked once more, and this time, his head tipped slightly forward.
Still upright.
Still holding the bowl.
But I'm nearly asleep.
Cordova moved quietly.
He approached with a light blanket in hand, one kept stowed for long expeditions—soft, travel-worn, infused with the faint scent of clean fabric and desert sage.
Gently, he took the bowl from Elai's fingers.
The boy stirred but didn't protest.
His eyes fluttered. Half-open, then closed again.
Eno knelt down beside him.
"All right," he murmured, almost to himself. "That's enough for tonight."
With practiced ease, he slid one arm behind the boy's shoulders, another beneath his knees, lifting him slowly. The child was lighter than expected—bones like a bird's, but with a presence that made him feel far older.
The wolf watched but didn't move. Her gaze followed them as Cordova stepped carefully into the crew quarters.
He had already cleared a space earlier. Rolled out an extra cot, laid down clean thermal sheets, adjusted the room's light to a soft gold.
Eno lowered the child gently.
The boy stirred once as his head touched the pillow, a small sound escaping from his lips—not a word, but something that might have been peace.
Cordova pulled the blanket over him.
Tucked it just enough around his shoulders to hold in the warmth.
And paused.
For just a moment.
The boy, asleep now, looked so much smaller than before. So much more like the age he truly was
Eno stood.
The wolf entered behind him, stepping softly into the room. She didn't leap onto the bed. Instead, she curled beneath it, spine pressed to the cot's edge, tail curled protectively.
Cordova stepped out, pausing at the door frame.
He didn't smile.
But he nodded once—to himself.
Outside, the stars continued their slow, eternal arc.
And aboard The Dantari Hope, the child slept for the first time in years… not because his body demanded it, but because someone had finally made space for him to rest.