"— Come on, Lihuen… it's just a game. Breathe a little."
Kaen's voice crackled through the headset — a bit too bright, a bit too fast, like he was trying to hide his own nerves. It floated in the darkness of the room, pulsing with blue LEDs and soft beeps.
Lihuen sat inside his capsule, adjusting the last straps around his chest. The sensors connected one by one to his skull, neck, and wrists. He could hear his own breath in the earpiece. Shallow, focused. He wasn't afraid — not really — but there was a weight pressing down on his chest.
"— It's not just a game," he replied, tightening the last strap. "You read the docs, right? Once you're in, it's all gone. No memories, no identity. Not even your name. The brain gets... locked."
"— Yeah, yeah… (chuckles) And inside, it can last what… eighty years? A dream longer than a real life. Kinda ironic, considering our age, huh?"
Silence followed, heavier than he expected. He thought he heard the faint sound of Lyra adjusting her harness on the other end of the channel.
"— But… we'll remember everything when we come out, right?" he murmured.
"— That's what they say," Kaen answered, his voice more serious. "A whole life condensed into a few hours. Like a lucid dream… but one that leaves a mark."
Then Lyra's voice cut through the tension — calm, clear.
"— Inside, we forget. But we made a promise: our names, we keep them. Even if we lose them in the world… we'll find them again."
"— Lihuen, Kaen, Lyra," Kaen said.
"— Always together," Lyra finished.
"— Always."
A soft beep signaled the full synchronization of the three capsules.
Neural connection active.Sensorial transfer initializing.Welcome to Qin.
The world breathed.
There was no better word to describe it. No blinding light. No digital transition. Just… a breath.
Lihuen opened his eyes. It wasn't waking up — more like emerging. As if each of his senses reconnected one by one. He felt the humidity on his skin, the prickling of moss beneath his neck, the earthy scent thick with ancient sap. The air was dense, heavier than mountain air, almost alive.
He sat up slowly, palms sinking into the spongy ground. His back rested against a colossal tree, wider than a house. Its veined bark pulsed gently, with an irregular rhythm. Around him, the forest stretched endlessly, drowned in golden mist.
He had no memories. Not even his name. Only a faint echo lingered somewhere between his chest and throat — like a suspended note. A sensation that he didn't fully belong here… but wasn't a stranger either.
He stood with effort. Muscles stiff, body clumsy. Everything felt real — far more real than expected. The weight of his steps, the cold air slipping beneath his tunic, the rough wind brushing the leaves. Nothing felt fake. Nothing betrayed a simulated world.
He looked up.
On a ridge overlooking the clearing, a creature was watching him.
Massive. Majestic. Its silhouette resembled a sphinx, but its wingspan exceeded that of any known predator. Metallic feathers covered its flanks, its clawed limbs looked carved from stone, and two spiraled horns crowned its scarred head.
Its eyes — pale as twin moons — stared at Lihuen. Not with anger. Not with pity. Just… a gaze almost human.
He should have fled. Screamed. Fallen to his knees.
But he didn't move. As if some part of him knew this encounter wasn't a threat. Or perhaps… it was meant to happen.
After a long, silent moment, the creature turned its head, flapped its wings, and rose into the mist, vanishing above the canopy.
The world exhaled.
Lihuen turned. Behind him, the tree.
It hadn't moved, yet something about it… called to him. Its roots formed natural arches, its branches disappeared into the fog. At its base, a hollow. A natural alcove.
And at its center, lying on a bed of shimmering moss, an egg.
Pearly. Warm. Gently pulsing.
He stepped closer, hesitant, as if his body knew what his mind couldn't accept. He reached out. Touched the shell.
Warmth spread through his hand. And for a single heartbeat, something… responded.
A resonance.
The egg cracked.
He pulled back instinctively, but remained kneeling. A clawed paw broke through the shell, followed by a round head, long pointed ears, and two bright, strange blue eyes — intense, ethereal.
The creature emerged slowly, effortlessly, like waking from an ancient dream. Its sandy coat shimmered with diffuse light, marked with subtle, shifting patterns — as if its fur held echoes of long-forgotten glyphs.
It blinked, stepped forward, and without a sound, curled against his chest.
As if it knew him.
Not as a master.
But as… a return.
A bond.
Lihuen didn't move. He wrapped his arms around the warm little body. The world could collapse — nothing mattered more than this moment.
A distant rumble. Trees shook. Something massive was charging through the forest. A beastly roar tore through the silence.
Lihuen held the creature tighter and rose. He didn't understand. But instinct screamed louder. He turned and ran — barefoot through damp leaves, leaping over roots, fleeing without looking back.
He didn't stop until much later, in a hanging glade. The air here was lighter. A distant waterfall hummed. Mist formed halos around the trees.
He collapsed to his knees, breathless.
The creature still nestled in his arms, unmoving.
"— I don't know who I am," he whispered. "Or where I am. But you're here. And that's enough."
He looked down.
"— I think my name is… Lihuen."
The word echoed inside him, like a thread being woven.
A sound.
A soft hum, barely audible.
A platform hovered a few meters above the ground. Silent. Suspended by a technology Lihuen couldn't yet comprehend.
And on that platform, a man.
He stood tall, calm and grounded — a fixed point in the air. He looked aged, but not weak. His back was straight, his movements precise. He had the presence of a seasoned adventurer — one who had seen too much to fear, but not enough to give up.
His outfit, wide and functional, drifted gently with the wind. A high-altitude coat, reinforced here and there, designed for heights, cold, and storms. The material was unknown — neither metal nor cloth. Nothing flashy. Just purpose. Precision in every seam.
The platform descended slowly, brushing against the moss. The man landed without a sound.
Lihuen didn't move. He watched. So did the man.
A long silence passed.
Then the stranger stepped forward.
"— You came from in there?" he asked, nodding toward the forest.
Not quite a question. Almost a whisper.
His eyes dropped to the creature in Lihuen's arms.
"— Hm. Not shy, is it?"
He straightened.
"— Doesn't look like you know what it is."
He studied Lihuen again.
"— And you… you don't look like you know what you are."
For a moment, his eyes darkened. Not cold — just focused.
"— You don't resemble the others. The ones born here. You have that… look. That silence in your eyes."
He crossed his arms.
"— I've seen that look before. You just fell, didn't you?"
Lihuen hesitated. Then slowly nodded.
The man stepped back, pointed to the platform.
"— Looking for answers? Start by getting on."
Lihuen held the creature tighter.
He glanced back at the tree one last time. Then climbed aboard.
The platform hummed softly, lifting with a subtle pulse. The man stood beside him, hands behind his back, eyes fixed on the horizon.
The vast forest slowly faded beneath them.
And ahead, in the pale glow of the sky, appeared the first arches of a suspended world. Floating stone isles, linked by energy bridges. Towers rising above the clouds. Human figures in motion, clinging to wind sails and floating craft. A city clinging to the sky.
Lihuen held his breath.
He knew nothing. Not even his own name.
But somewhere up there… he might start to understand.
The creature in his arms looked up at him, peaceful, awake. Its sandy fur shimmered with subtle patterns, flowing like ancient runes. Its long ears twitched with every gust of wind.
Lihuen didn't know it yet, but this rare companion — born beneath a forgotten tree-ship — belonged to a species thought extinct in nearly all known lands.
A Kal'ra.