The space transport vehicle felt completely different from anything Ian had boarded before. Its design was foreign, curved corridors, shifting lights embedded in the walls, and surfaces that seemed to hum faintly with stored energy. As he stepped inside, he slowed, taking in the sheer variety of travelers around him.
He found a spot near a wide observation panel and sat. The soft chime of departure echoed through the vessel.
Gradually, the ship began to hum louder. The walls seemed to tighten ever so slightly. Then came the faint tremble, thrusters engaging, followed by a sudden surge of power. The vehicle lifted, slow at first, then accelerating rapidly. From the window, Ian watched the surface of the launch platform fall away, the ground shrinking to toy-like scale. Clouds swirled past. Then came the break.
The ship burst through the upper atmosphere. A wash of light flooded the viewing panel as the sky darkened into space. Ian leaned forward slightly. Below, the planet hung suspended, cloaked in ocean blues, greens and scattered white storms. Above, a massive sun blazed, so close and white it seemed almost touchable. Trails of ion energy shimmered from the ship's path, forming soft arcs as they curved toward their destination.
Not long after, their destination emerged, a vivid sphere suspended in the dark.
Relt.
From this distance, the planet was a swirl of intense, contrasting colors. Thick bands of deep crimson forests cut across brilliant emerald plains. Vast bodies of water shimmered with hints of violet, reflecting the light of the sun. Pale cloud systems curled in elegant spirals across the atmosphere, moving slowly over the terrain below. Along the equator, Ian could make out a shimmering ring, either a natural formation or something artificial, glowing faintly against the planet's surface. Even from orbit, the land pulsed with a strange vibrancy. It looked alive, rich with energy and complexity
The ship adjusted course, descending through the upper layers of Relt's atmosphere. As the colors grew sharper and the landforms clearer, Ian found himself leaning forward again
The ship adjusted course, descending through the upper layers of Relt's atmosphere. The view shifted gradually, colors sharpening, landforms gaining shape. Ian leaned forward, eyes locked on the scene unfolding below.
A soft tone chimed overhead, followed by a calm voice. "Passengers arriving on Relt for the first time are asked to proceed to the designated conditioning zone before disembarkation."
Ian didn't move.
He knew what it was for. Most newcomers needed time to adapt, the gravity here was slightly lighter than standard, the air thinner and drier, and the atmospheric pressure a few degrees lower than most inner systems. Without adaptation protocols, the sudden change could leave people dizzy, short of breath, disoriented for hours.
But Ian wasn't like most passengers, as a First Order, its not hard for his body to adjust to such minor changes in the ecosystem.
When the doors finally opened, he stepped out.
The difference hit instantly. The gravity was subtle, almost buoyant. His footsteps felt lighter, movements smoother. The air had a dry clarity to it, cooler than expected, and carried a faint mineral taste. Breathing took a second longer, but it didn't bother him.
Around him, others were still adjusting, some pausing to catch their balance, others blinking hard as their lungs worked to keep up.
Ian walked past them without pause.
Near the terminal exit, a familiar figure stood waiting. Wiokz spotted him first, lifting a hand in a casual wave. "There you are," he said, grinning.
They clasped forearms briefly, a greeting half-formal, half-warm, and walked side by side.
"How was the trip?" Wiokz asked.
"Smooth," Ian replied.
Wiokz glanced out the window as they moved. "What did you think about Relt?"
Ian hesitated, then said, "Different. Hard to take in all at once."
Wiokz nodded knowingly. "It grows on you. Wait until you see it from the ground."
Soon, Wiokz led him to a small hovercraft docked just outside. The vehicle gleamed under the pale light, ready for the next leg of their journey.
As they lifted off and began cruising over the open terrain, Ian leaned back in his seat, taking in the sweeping views. Relt's surface rolled beneath them, broad plateaus veined with sparkling rivers, massive fungi-trees rising in slow spirals, and clusters of settlements built into the sides of cliffs or perched along the ridgelines.
Wiokz gestured out the window. "That's the Terren Fold, used to be a migration route for the sky-serpents, before the council set up the resonance towers. Now it's mostly protected forest and trade villages."
He didn't stop talking for long. Along the ride, he pointed out weather-worn monuments carved into rock walls, floating agricultural basins tethered by metalroot cables, and signal trees blinking with pulses that served as communication relays in remote regions.
Ian listened attentively, half-fascinated and half still absorbing the strangeness of it all. His original plan had been to stay somewhere quiet, a resort on the cliffs outside the city. But that had been before Wiokz insisted him staying at his home.
They arrived not long after.
The place had a rustic calm to it. Not quite a village, not quite a city, somewhere in between. Narrow paths wound through low-built homes, and terraces looked out across layered fields. Lanterns hung from curved posts, casting muted glows over the stone.
A few Elves moved through the area, tourists, mostly, taking slow walks, pausing to observe, to photograph, to enjoy the novelty of life here. Locals gave them space without question.
Wiokz's home stood higher than the rest, near the ridge. Subtle in design, but clearly larger, better built. It was quiet wealth, refined materials, precise layout, nothing ostentatious. Rich, by local standards. Probably very rich.
Inside, his family was waiting.
They didn't rush. Just stood near the entrance, several Luminvar, their light-markings visible beneath their skin, faces calm, composed. One stepped forward.
"Ian," they said, voice level and practiced. "You're welcome in this home."
Another added with a slight nod, "We're honored to host you."
Ian returned the gesture, modest, respectful. "Thank you."
No one asked questions. The greetings were warm, but measured. A third relative gestured toward the hallway.
"Your room is ready."
Ian followed without a word. The room was simple, but thoughtfully prepared.
He sat down by the window, watching the Luminvar village slow beneath the blue sky.
By evening, Wiokz came to get him.
They moved through the winding streets together, the sky turning indigo above them. Wiokz guided him like a tour guide who happened to own the entire route. Every few minutes, they stopped, at a terrace, a fountain, a street vendor, and Wiokz would casually introduce him.
And Ian could feel it, the subtle weight of attention. Eyes lingering. People leaning in just a little. The same kind of look you'd give someone who wasn't supposed to be here, but somehow was. Not suspicion. Just awe. Quiet, careful awe.
Wiokz didn't hide his pride. If anything, he leaned into it, like a village boy walking through his old neighborhood with someone from the capital. A little smug. A little too pleased. But not in a way that bothered Ian. It was oddly human.
Ian greeted everyone politely, his expression calm but not cold. He shook hands, nodded, listened. Asked a few questions here and there. Most of the time, though, he just looked, at the carved walls, the winding courtyards, the way the light shifted through the old glass above the market path.
The next day, Wiokz took him out early, heading toward the Umbrahang plantations just outside the village. The terrain opened as they walked, revealing sloping groves filled with rows of dark-barked trees. The scent of dry pollen and mineral-rich soil hung in the air.
Harvest season was underway.
Groups of Luminvar moved between the trunks, tapping gently at the bark, checking for resonance. Small hover-lifts carried sealed crates, already half-filled with extracted cores. Ian watched quietly as one of the workers cracked open a fresh one, a dull amber hue with faint internal striations, still warm from its extraction.
They were greeted by a few workers who recognized Wiokz. One of them, a middle-aged Luminvar with a soft, graying voice, walked them through rows of older trees, pausing occasionally to point out which trunks would produce high-grade cores. Ian followed closely, running his hand along one of the spiraled grooves.
"This one's probably second-tier," the Luminvar said, tapping the bark. "See that ripple? Means it formed too fast in its early cycle. Strong, but not stable."
Ian nodded politely. But his attention was elsewhere.
He kept glancing beyond the edges of the paths, where older, unharvested trees leaned in shadow. The Mindbloom in him had already begun to stir, lightly at first, a faint buzz behind the eyes. As they moved deeper, it grew stronger, sharpening his perception, as though the forest was revealing more than it intended.
He was looking for something Yeonelyth had told him about. A different kind of core, one that didn't grow in a single tree, but was passed intentionally over generations. The "representative" tree, she'd called it, held this core that would be a culmination of the entire region's tree. The information wasn't something Ian was aware of until Yeonelyth mentioned it.
After the workers finished sharing their information and returned to their tasks, Ian and Wiokz moved deeper into the groves, the quiet hum of the Umbrahang leaves surrounding them as they pressed onward.
And then he saw it.
Nestled between two sloping roots was a single Umbrahang tree, smaller than the others. Its bark was dark gold, braided with living patterns that shimmered faintly in the filtered light. But the real reason it was overlooked was clear: the core didn't sit high in the trunk where most were harvested. Instead, it grew deep within the knot at its base, where few would think to look.
Ian stepped forward cautiously. His palm brushed the rough bark near the roots.
He pulled the extraction tool from his pack and carefully set it into the hidden knot.
With a soft crack, the bark gave way, and the core emerged.
Not like the others. This one wasn't smooth or freshly formed. It was etched with fine concentric grooves, like tree rings, each one marked with symbols too precise to be natural. Layers of age, passed down. The material was denser, glowing softly in a muted, bronze-blue hue.
Wiokz stared. "That's… I've never seen one like that."
Ian turned it slightly in the light. "It's a representative core. Built up across generations."
"I didn't," Ian said. "Someone mentioned the idea. I was not sure that it even existed, until now."
He turned to Wiokz. "Thanks for bringing me here. I'll make sure this is compensated properly..."
Wiokz raised a hand quickly. "No, no. You don't have to. Really. I didn't even know a thing like this was out here."
Ian gave a small nod but didn't push it, he will definitely compensate them in one way or another. They started walking back toward the center of the grove when a sudden noise broke the quiet, raised voices, something sharp and escalating. Ian and Wiokz exchanged a look, then picked up their pace.
As they rounded the edge of the main path, they saw the source.
A small group had gathered near the storage crates. Several Luminvar workers stood back, tense but calm. Facing them was a young elf, barely past adolescence by the look of it. Pale hair, narrowed eyes, loose dark clothes that hung slightly oversized. Around him stood two older elves, more composed, watching but not interfering.
The young one was pacing, agitated, gesturing sharply. "You think you can just mark off those cores as yours? We all know how this works. You're stashing high-quality cores out here and claiming they're defective."
One of the Luminvar, an older worker with blue-grey skin and a weathered expression, stepped forward slowly. "No one is hiding anything. The cores were processed like always. You can check the records."
"I don't need your records." The young elf moved in closer. "You just think we won't say anything if you act polite enough."