October, 1096

Today is the 4th of October.

I have triple-checked the medical clearances with Erika and Miss Sussurro; Opal is finally allowed to leave her high-security quarantine ward. It has been a long time coming. Podenco still owes us the big tea party she promised back when the blinding thunderstorm of the Tkaronto Catastrophe trapped us all inside. Between the endless triage shifts and the chaotic aftermath of the recent deployments, everyone had been too busy and completely forgotten about it.

Until today.

After a quick breakfast of red bean rolls we head towards Opal’s ward.

I step inside the cool room. Erika follows closely behind me.

"Good morning, Opal," I say softly, offering a bright smile.

"Lethe. Erika," Opal replies. She is sitting up on her mattress, her ears resting limply against her shoulders, her hands clutching the brown plushie to her chest.

"We are going to the garden today, Opal," I announce gently, taking a small step closer to the edge of her bed. "It is going to be fun. Miss Lena and Podenco have prepared a big celebration for you."

The moment the words leave my mouth, Opal completely freezes.

Her ears instantly pin themselves flat, her knuckles turning white as she grips the stuffed plushie. The ambient air in the sterile ward curdles violently.

The sudden spike of fear hits the back of my tongue like cracked ice and bitter medicine.

I look back at Erika. Her features twisting with aching understanding. She gives me an encouraging nod.

I turn back to the trembling girl. I lower my Arts Unit so the base rests quietly on the floor, and I gently reach out, offering my hand over the blankets.

"It is okay to be scared, Opal," I whisper, pitching my voice to be as gentle as the rustling vines in Miss Lena's greenhouse. "The landship is really big, and the hallways can be very loud. I was terrified of them too when I first left my room."

I lean in just a tiny bit.

"But you won't be alone for a single second," I promise her, my eyes locking onto hers.

"Erika will be right behind us, and I will hold your hand the entire way. If it gets too loud, or if the air feels too heavy, you just squeeze my fingers, and we will stop. Okay?"

For a long moment, the only sound is the rhythmic beep of the monitors. Opal stares at my outstretched hand.

Slowly, ever so slightly, she loosens her grip on the plushie. Her trembling fingers reach out and securely wrap around mine.

"Ready to go, Opal?" I ask, giving her fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

For a second, she just stares at our joined hands. Then, she gives a deliberate nod. She pulls the Cautus-esque plushie tighter against her chest with her free hand, holding it like a vital shield against the world outside.

Erika steps forward, moving smoothly to Opal's other side. Together, we slowly peel back the blankets.

Seeing Opal fully out from under the covers makes my chest ache. Her legs are heartbreakingly thin. Erika kneels down, her movements incredibly tender, and gently guides Opal's small feet into a pair of soft, padded grey Rhodes Island slippers; the exact same kind she had placed in front of my own freezing toes nine months ago. Opal shifts her weight forward. She takes a tentative, wobbly step away from the mattress, but her legs completely betray her. Her knees violently buckle under the strain, sending her pitching forward.

"Careful!" Erika gasps, her hands darting out. The ambient air in the ward instantly spikes with a sharp, tangy burst of alarm.

But I am already moving.

I drop my Arts Unit to the side, ignoring the loud clatter it makes against the floor. I step into her path and throw my arms around her torso. My body absorbs her fragile, feather-light weight.

"I've got you," I whisper, quickly adjusting my grip to support her shoulders, meticulously careful not to brush against the jagged black crystals piercing the skin near her collarbone. I hold her steady, letting her lean her head against my dark grey jacket.

"Take it slowly. There is absolutely no rush."

We cross the threshold of the high-security quarantine ward, the heavy doors hissing shut behind us. I adjust my grip around Opal's frame, letting her lean her weight against my jacket while my other hand remains firmly wrapped around hers. Erika hovers at our side, a watchful, protective shadow.

As we step into the metallic arteries, my ears twitch with a spike of static. Standing just a few paces away is a tiny Vulpo.

She is wearing a short, crisp white coat emblazoned with the Rhodes Island Medic symbol. Her face is set in a remarkably flat, stern expression, projecting an emotional resonance of absolute, uncompromising professionalism.

The moment my empathy brushes against her, the ambient air in the corridor shifts. Her presence hits the back of my tongue with the distinct, robust flavor of unsweetened dark chocolate and black coffee. It is intensely bitter, incredibly grounded. It is the taste of pure, exhausted competence.

I blink, my eyes wide as I look up at my caretaker. "Erika," I whisper, pitching my voice so as not to startle Opal. "Who is that?"

"Oh, that's Sussurro," Erika replies softly. She offers the tiny Vulpo a respectful, professional nod.

The Vulpo meets Erika's look and nods back. Her expression doesn't soften in the slightest, but the bitter chocolate flavor in the air hums with a quiet, mutual acknowledgment between Medics.

My mind races. Miss Sussurro. This is the same Medic who had administered the heavy dose of sedatives to Opal during the Catastrophe, saving.

I stare at the Vulpo's diminutive frame. She is tiny. "Wait?" I blurt out. I look back at Erika, my eyes completely blown out. "Miss Sussurro is a child like me?"

Erika lets out a sudden, bright laugh that echoes warmly in the corridor. She reaches out, her fingers gently rubbing the space right behind my pointed ear.

"No, Lethe," Erika chuckles, her features crinkling with profound amusement. "She is older than me."

I look back at Miss Sussurro. I quickly give the senior Medic a tiny, deeply respectful bow, making a mental note to never, ever treat the stern Vulpo like a peer.

Miss Sussurro offers one last, crisp nod before turning on her heel, her white coat disappearing around the bend. The heavy, bitter taste fades with her.

We resume our slow and careful march. Every step is a monumental effort for Opal. Her padded slippers shuffle tentatively against the flooring. I keep my grip firm on her hand, while Erika's palm rests securely against the Cautus girl's back.

"Almost there, Opal," I encourage her.

She doesn't speak, but her knuckles, white from clutching the brown Amiya plushie tightly against her chest, loosen just a fraction.

The blast doors of the Convalescent Garden stand at the end of the hallway, looking like just another formidable wall of metal. But as we step into the sensor's range, the pneumatic locks disengage with a heavy clank. The metal plates hiss and smoothly slide apart.

Instantly, the oppressive sterility of the medical wing is violently washed away.

A rich, humid wave of warm air spills out into the cold corridor, wrapping around us like a war  blanket. It carries the thick, earthy scent of damp soil, crushed leaves, and the sweet, delicate fragrance of blooming flora.

Opal gasps.

For the very first time since I saw her writhing in the blood-stained triage bay, her eyes blow wide open not in absolute fear, but in pure, relatable wonder.

She stops dead in her tracks, staring up at the towering canopy and the lush, green vines cascading from the ceiling beams.

Deep within the foliage, Miss Lena and Podenco turn to look at us.

The ambient air in the garden immediately sweetens.

Miss Lena gracefully sets down her data slate, her features softening into a smile so profoundly welcoming it makes my own chest ache. Beside her, Podenco's ears perk up and her tail gives a deliberate wag behind her apron, but she purposefully restrains her usual energy, staying perfectly still.

"Welcome to the Convalescent Garden, Opal," Miss Lena murmurs, her voice a gentle melody floating perfectly over the rustle of the leaves.

I gently guide Opal down the winding path, navigating through the hanging ivy and large ferns until we reach one of the secluded seating areas. I carefully help her sit down on the curved, golden-brown wooden bench. The polished material is warm. Opal pulls her knees up slightly, her frame curling protectively around her plushie. She simply watches the canopy above.

With Opal safely settled, I turn my attention to Podenco who has stepped out from behind her flowerbeds.

"Where is the party, Podenco?" I ask, my voice demanding and expectant.

Podenco lets out a quiet, exaggerated sigh, her ears drooping playfully. The ambient taste of her presence ripples with a fond, exasperated amusement. "I swear you are the only one who keeps hung up on that, Lethe."

I immediately puff out my cheeks.

"You promised all the way back during Tkaronto," I insist, crossing my arms. "There is absolutely no way I am going to let you go on that. We survived the thunderstorm. I want my tea."

Behind me, Erika lets out a bright, ringing laugh, the sound dancing effortlessly over the ambient rustle of the greenhouse leaves. Miss Lena joins in, a soft, serene chuckle that blends perfectly with Erika’s joy.

I glance down at Opal. The overlapping laughter and the incredibly sweet, grounded emotional resonances seem to act as a shield for her. Her eyes dart between us, watching our lighthearted bickering with a quiet curiosity.

"Not funny," I protest, keeping my cheeks puffed, though the edges of my lips are desperately trying to twitch upward into a smile.

"Now, now, Lethe," Miss Lena murmurs, stepping across the smooth floor tiles. She reaches out, gently resting a warm hand on my shoulder. Her touch is a profound, grounding anchor. "Lisa will be here soon. We can start then."

"Opal! Lethe! Podenco! Miss Lena! Miss Erika!"

The bright, chiming voice echoes through the walls of the Convalescent Garden before the doors even fully slide shut. I don't need to turn around to know Lisa has arrived. The sheer, overwhelming wave of her presence hits the back of my tongue an instant before I see her.

Lisa practically bounds down the winding path, her tails swishing behind her in a frantic blur of excitement. Clutched securely in her arms is a large, brightly colored tote bag, bulging with several rectangular cardboard boxes.

She skids to a halt right in front of our bench, her eyes shining with unadulterated joy as she looks at Opal, then at me.

"I brought them from the dormitories!" Lisa announces proudly, hoisting the bag up slightly to show off her haul.

I look at the colorful, illustrated boxes peeking out of the bag.

I tilt my head.

"What are those?" I ask.

The bustling, joyful energy in the garden completely stalls. Everyone pauses.

"They are board games, Lethe!" Lisa declares, her bright smile returning in full force as she pulls one of the boxes from the bag. "They are really fun puzzles and stories we play together with pieces and cards. We can play them with Opal!"

I look down at Opal. She is watching the exchange quietly, her chin still resting against the head of her plushie. But her eyes are focused on the colorful box in Lisa's hands, a faint, tentative curiosity breaking through her gaze.

"Board games?" I repeat. "But… I don't know the rules. What if I do it wrong?"

"We will teach you together, Lethe!" Lisa promises, stepping closer to the bench and gently setting the boxes down on the polished wood. "It's super easy!"

"Speak for yourself, Lisa,” Podenco rests her hands on her hips.

"I am not planning to show mercy just because you don’t know how to play, Lethe," Podenco teases, pointing a playful finger directly at me. "If we are playing Pioneers of Columbia, I am absolutely buying all the properties first."

I blink, momentarily taken aback by the sudden challenge, before a relaxed smile finally breaks across my face. I puff my cheeks out, fixing Podenco with a defiant glare.

"You can try, Podenco," I shoot back, my tail giving a confident, challenging swish behind my jacket. "But I learn very fast!"

Miss Lena and Erika share a warm, quiet laugh.

"Come join us, Opal!" Podenco chirps, stepping forward.

She doesn't push into Opal's space, but simply offers her hand, her palm turned upward in an open, undeniable invitation.

Opal freezes. Her ears twitch nervously. She pulls the brown plushie tighter against her chest.

Slowly, her focus dart away from Podenco. She looks at me, and then shifts her attention to Erika standing just behind my shoulder I don't hesitate. I meet her uncertain look and give her a slow, deeply reassuring nod. Opal takes a small, shaky breath. Her fingers uncurl from the plushie just enough to reach out. She gently places her hand into Podenco’s outstretched palm.

Podenco doesn't pull or rush the younger girl; instead, she matches Opal's hesitant, shuffling pace, gently guiding her toward the polished table where Lisa has already begun excitedly organizing a chaotic pile of colorful cards and plastic pieces.

"We will go prepare the cookies and tea," Miss Lena says, and gestures for Erika to follow her toward the prep counter nestled deep within the garden.

Erika pauses for a second, sweeping over the four of us gathered around the table.

"Don’t destroy the garden, you four," Erika teases, a bright, fond smile breaking across her face.

"We won’t. Promise!" I call back.

I slide onto the chair right next to Opal.

Lisa is already in her element. She begins dealing out colorful paper currency with practiced efficiency.

"Okay, so!" Lisa announces, pointing to the sprawling, vibrant board depicting the towering, commercial skyline of Columbia. "The goal is to buy as many properties as you can, and if someone lands on your property, they have to pay you rent! And if you get all the properties of one color, you can build little houses!"

Opal watches Lisa's rapid-fire explanation with wide, slightly overwhelmed eyes, but she doesn't shrink away. She reaches out with her free hand, tentatively touching her designated playing piece; a tiny plastic race car.

"I'm going to buy the entire financial district," Podenco declares, crossing her arms with a confident grin. "Just you wait, Lethe. I'm going to bankrupt you before the tea even finishes steeping."

I puff out my cheeks, leaning over the board.

"I'd like to see you try, Podenco," I challenge back, picking up a pair of plastic dice. I gently nudge Opal's shoulder with my own. "We're going to team up and buy everything before she can, right Opal?"

Opal looks down at the colorful paper money Lisa has placed in front of her. Her grip on the plushie relaxes just a tiny bit more. The corners of her mouth twitch upward into the faintest, most fragile ghost of a smile.

"Okay," Opal whispers.

"No fair…" I groan, letting my head drop heavily.

I press my cheeks flat against the table, my lopsided horns pointing directly across the board at Podenco like a pair of defeated spears. I stare miserably at the colorful paper money and my little plastic train car. Whatever number I roll next, I am going to be completely, hopelessly bankrupted.

"Now, now, Lethe. Submit to my real estate empire," Podenco teases.

She leans back in her chair, lifting her teacup with an exaggerated, aristocratic flair. She takes a deliberate sip with absolute, smug satisfaction. The ambient taste of her presence ripples over me, bubbling with the carbonated fizz of playful victory.

I let out a pathetic, muffled whine against the table.

A few paces away, standing near a large fern, Erika and Miss Lena are entirely oblivious to my fictional financial ruin. Their voices drift over the rustling of the Convalescent Garden, weaving a quiet, serious tapestry of medical jargon. I catch fragments of their conversation: suppressant half-lives, localized crystallization rates.

"We will win."

The voice is incredibly quiet, but it cuts through the ambient noise of the greenhouse like a thunderclap.

"Next time."

I shoot straight up from the table, my spine snapping rigid. My sudden movement rattles the board, sending a few plastic houses skittering across the cardboard districts.

I stare at the seat beside me.

Opal is holding one of Miss Lena’s rustic oat and berry cookies.

I watch, completely mesmerized, as she takes a slow, deliberate bite. She munches quietly, small crumbs dropping onto the wood.

I reach out with my senses, gently brushing against her. The freezing void that had swallowed her mind is still there at the edges. But right now, right in this exact moment, there is a tiny, fragile spark of warmth pushing back the cold. It tastes like sweet berries and an undertone of plums.

I look at Podenco, whose smug expression has entirely melted into wide-eyed, silent awe. I look across the table at Lisa, whose tails have fluffed up to twice their size.

I turn back to Opal, and a massive smile breaks across my face.

"Yeah," I whisper, reaching out to gently bump my shoulder against hers. "Next time, Opal. We are going to buy the whole city."

Despite my most desperate rolls of the plastic dice and Opal's quiet, steadfast support, the financial district falls completely into Podenco's hands. We cannot get the win in the end. I am officially, undeniably bankrupt.

"Lunch time, everyone," Miss Lena announces. Her voice signals the end of our fierce corporate warfare.

Erika steps up to our table. "Let's go, Opal," Erika says, her tone incredibly soft and encouraging. She extends a hand, gently guiding the young girl to her feet. Opal clutches her plushie tightly against her chest with one arm, but she willingly allows Erika to support her with the other, leaning slightly against Erika’s side.

As they begin to turn away, Erika pauses and looks back at me. "I will catch you in the cafeteria for dinner, Lethe," she says.

I offer her a bright, obedient smile, smoothing down the fabric of my pleated skirt.

"Okay, Erika. I will be good."

As Erika and Opal make their slow, careful way toward the doors of the garden, we all raise our hands to wave them off.

"It was fun today, Opal!" Lisa cheers, leaning over the edge of the table.

Opal looks back over her shoulder. Very slowly, she gives a tiny nod.

Opal is truly coming back to us.

The humid air of the Convalescent Garden is a comforting weight against my skin. I help Miss Lena carefully gather the empty teacups and sweep away the stray crumbs of baked grain and dried berries from the floor.

"Want to have lunch together, Lethe?" Lisa asks.

Before I can nod and say yes, a sharp chime interrupts the quiet rustle of leaves. My slate vibrates heavily inside my crossbody bag.

I pull the chassis out and tap the glass screen. A direct message banner drops down. [Amiya]: Rosmontis and I are free for lunch, if you can join us that would be great! We will be at upper deck 2 cafeteria.

I stare at the glowing text. A sudden, fluttering thrill of excitement blooms in my chest, immediately chased by a sharp pang of guilt. I look up at Lisa, my tail limp as I clutch the slate.

"Sorry…" I murmur, my voice quiet. "Amiya says she is free."

Lisa's tails pause their wagging, but before the disappointment can even fully register, Podenco steps in.

"That’s alright," Podenco says brightly, brushing the stray crumble off her apron. "You barely get to hang out with her, but you see us daily."

Lisa immediately bounces back. "Podenco is right! Go, Lethe! Amiya works so hard, it will be good for her to take a break with you."

I give them a firm, grateful nod and reach down to pick up my Arts Unit. "I will take my leave," I say, offering a bright smile. "See you all tomorrow."

Leaving the earthy warmth of the Convalescent Garden, I step back into the chaotic arteries of the landship. I weave my way toward the central elevators, swiping my ID card against the terminal.

Upper Deck 2.

When the doors slide open, I step out into the cafeteria. Unlike the sprawling, deafeningly loud main dining hall on the lower levels, this space is smaller, refined, and distinctly hushed. The lighting is a crisp, cool white, reflecting off the polished surfaces of the tables. It is a space designed for department heads, elite operatives, and executives to eat without being swallowed by the noise of a thousand logistics Operators.

I scan the room. It doesn't take long to find them.

Sitting at a quiet table near one of the large observation windows is Amiya. Beside her Rosmontis sits perfectly still.

I adjust my jacket, slowly walk toward my friends.

"Amiya. Rosmontis," I say, stepping up to the edge of their table.

I look past them, my attention drawn to the observation window. Framed against the reinforced glass, the two girls look incredibly small. Outside rolling, vibrant green hills stretch out toward the horizon, painted under a clear, unblemished sky. Erika had told me earlier this morning that the landship was currently hovering around the borders of Great Yan.

"Lethe! Glad you can join us," Amiya beams, she shifts slightly to make room for me.

"Lethe," Rosmontis echoes quietly. She gives a small, deliberate nod, I pull out an empty chair and sit down. My tail pooling lazily on the ground.

"We haven’t gotten any food yet," Amiya states, her eyes darting toward the hot plates and serving stations lining the far wall of the cafeteria. She looks back at us, her smile bright and relaxed. "What are you guys feeling today?"

I tilt my head, looking back out at the hills rolling past the glass. "Since we are near… Yan. What is Yan food?" I ask.

Amiya taps her chin thoughtfully, her eyes scanning the menu above the serving stations. "Hmmm. I think they are serving Yanese small dishes and fried rice," she suggests, turning her warm look back to me and Rosmontis. "Want to try?"

"I don’t know what those things are," I admit, feeling a tiny, entirely unfeigned flush of embarrassment warm my cheeks. I look up at Amiya and offer a bright, eager smile.

"But sure!"

Rosmontis's ears twitch. She gives another slow, silent nod of agreement.

"Then it's decided," Amiya declares happily. She pushes her chair back and stands up.

"Let's go see what the Yan culinary team has prepared for us."

We reach the serving stations, and the savory aroma of the hot plates is immediately softened by the comforting scent of steamed dough and sugar. Behind the glass partitions, stacks of small, woven bamboo baskets release gentle plumes of steam. Inside the baskets sit rows of perfectly smooth, colorful buns.

Amiya leans over the glass, she scans the digital labels projecting crisp Yanese script and standard Victorian translations.

"Anything you prefer?" Amiya asks, looking back at us with an easy smile.

"Sweet ones!" I answer instantly.

The words slip out before I can even process them.

Beside me, Rosmontis slowly turns her head.

"Lethe really has a sweet tooth," Rosmontis observes quietly. Her voice is flat, a simple statement of fact, but her ambient presence ripples with the faintest hint of subtle pineapple flavored soft serve.

Amusement.

A sudden, intense flush of heat overrides my cheeks. I instinctively duck my head, letting my hair fall forward to hide my embarrassment as I grip the edge of my tray.

"They just taste better," I mumble defensively.

Amiya giggles.

"Sweet it is, then," Amiya says cheerfully. She points toward a stack of steaming baskets near the end of the line. "Those ones are sweet custard buns, and the ones next to them are filled with red bean paste."

“Na… Nai… Wong… Baa… Bao… is this how you say it?” I trace the Victorian script for the Yanese pronunciation.

“I am not too sure too, Lethe. But I think that’s about right? We could always ask Blaze.” Amiya replies, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

We load our trays with a small mountain of the steamed treats, alongside a few savory plates to ensure Erika wouldn't reprimand me later for skipping proper nutrition. As we reach the checkout terminal, Amiya gracefully steps ahead. She taps her ID card against the glowing scanner, covering the cost of the entire meal before I can even reach into my bag for my own card.

We navigate back to our quiet table by the observation window. The hills of Yan blur past the window as we settle into our seats.

I eagerly reach for one of the sweet custard buns. The white dough is incredibly soft and pillowy, radiating a comforting warmth. I grip the edges and eagerly tear it in half. Instantly, a thick, golden, semi-solid liquid comes rushing out from the center. It spills over the torn edges of the dough, landing directly onto my thumb and index finger. It isn't just warm; it is molten.

"Hot!" I yelp.

I drop the bun onto my ceramic plate with a sharp clatter, frantically shaking my hands in the air to cool my stinging fingers. My tail thrashes wildly beneath the table, entirely betraying whatever dignity I have left in front of the company’s elites.

Amiya and Rosmontis both smile.

This is the best lunch I could have asked for.