Tlandar Varn stood among his family—his father, Kaelis Varn; his mother, Almira Sareth; and his little sisters, Seriya, Nelia, and Varra—as they traveled aboard Akashma's Verdant-class transport ship, soaring above the boundless skies of Val'katl.
"Father," Tlandar asked, voice steady but eyes betraying his worry, "how are you holding up?"
Kaelis laid a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder. "I'm well enough, my son. More than anything, I'm grateful we escaped the Ixtielan marauders' onslaught. We may have lost the farm, the house, the land— but none of that is worth more than our lives. We will begin again once we reach New Asemeri."
Tlandar nodded, glancing through the viewport at the clouds rolling past. "It was quite a fight back there on the farm."
He fell silent for a moment, then added, "I'm thankful for everything Akashma has done for us. She was sent by the heavens, I'm sure of it. I only wish we could have saved the others. May the souls of Verdantis Nexus find peace."
Akashma Xil'ha, piloting the ship with practiced calm, turned slightly, her eyes like starlight in the glow of the cockpit. "Tlandar, listen to me. If you follow what your family and I teach you, you will fulfill your destiny. All we want is to protect this world—to save the people from the Asemeri chieftains' war machines that ravage this sacred land."
Outside the viewport, the shimmering frontier of New Asemeri came into view. The city-state, capital of the Val'katl dominion, rose from the clouds like a fortress of stone and steel—a vast, square metropolis ringed by towering walls that sloped inward, crowned with turrets bearing golden conical roofs. Massive gates guarded the city's approaches, opening only to admit trade caravans and the desperate alike. Plasma cannons bristled along the ramparts, while control towers guided streams of ships through the skies above.
The Verdant-class ship—sleek, apple-green, with twin rocket engines humming beneath broad wings—glided closer to the gates. Within the cockpit, a three-dimensional holographic map projected their coordinates in shifting blue glyphs, marking every surrounding ship and structure with dynamic text in the Asemeri tongue.
A comms signal crackled to life as they neared the outer gate.
"Incoming vessel, state your purpose," an operator's voice echoed through the speakers.
Akashma leaned forward, her tone unwavering. "This is Akashma Xil'ha of the Crimson Order, Sanctum of Orchids. I carry survivors from Verdantis Nexus. Their village has fallen to the Ixtielan marauders who now encroach upon your gates. These people have lost everything. I implore you to grant us refuge—this is a territorial emergency. If these marauders reach your walls, countless more will perish."
A tense pause. Then the operator's voice returned, softer now. "Permission granted. Coordinates for Shelter Complex 5735 are being transmitted. Proceed with haste—our sentinels stand ready."
Coordinates flickered onto the holographic display. Akashma steered the ship through the southern gate, the city unfolding beneath them—a sprawling expanse of neon-lit towers, crystalline spires, and streaming traffic. High-tech drones and skimmers darted between skyscrapers, their hulls flashing with newsfeeds and iridescent advertisements.
Above a hexagonal shelter complex deep in the city's heart, a landing pad awaited, its perimeter ringed with guiding lights and ground crew waving signal wands. Dozens of ships already rested there, each bearing refugees from the frontiers.
Akashma brought the transport to a gentle hover and descended, the rear ramp lowering with a hiss. She and Tlandar stepped out first, leading Kaelis, Almira, and the children into the soft hum of the city.
A shelter official greeted them at the foot of the ramp, bowing slightly. "Welcome to New Asemeri Refugee Shelter 5735. Please follow these attendants to the sublevel below. You will be provided food, care, and a place to rest. Akashma—your aid will not be forgotten."
With that, four Temsek attendants guided the weary family toward a wide industrial lift, ready to descend into the shelter's subterranean quarters. Above them, the skies of New Asemeri pulsed with the comings and goings of thousands of ships—each one a fragment of a civilization fighting to survive among the stars.