— Come on, Lihuen… it's just a game. Breathe a little.
Kaen's voice echoed in the headset, a bit too lively, a bit too fast, as if he were trying to mask his own nervousness. It floated in the dark room, saturated with blue LEDs and electronic beeps.
Lihuen, seated in his capsule, tightened the last straps around his torso. Sensors clicked into place one by one on his skull, his neck, his wrists. He could hear his own breath through the earpiece. Short, focused. He wasn't afraid — not really — but something heavy pressed on his chest.
— It's not just a game, he replied, pulling the last strap taut. You read it, didn't you? Once you're in, that's it. No memory, no identity. Not even your name. The brain gets... locked.
— Yeah, yeah… (a muffled laugh) And in there, what — it can last like eighty years? A dream longer than a whole life. At our age, that's kind of ironic, right?
The silence that followed was denser than he expected. He thought he heard Lyra adjusting her harness on the other side of the channel.
— But… we'll remember everything when we come out, right? he whispered.
— That's what they say, Kaen answered, voice calmer now. 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. Clear. Steady.
— Inside, we forget. But we made a promise: our names, we keep them. Even if we forget them in the world… we'll find them again.
— Lihuen, Kaen, Lyra, said Kaen.
— Always together, she concluded.
— Always.
A discreet beep signaled the complete synchronization of the three capsules.
Neural connection active.Preparing for sensory transit.Welcome to Qin.
The world breathed.
There was no other word to describe the sensation. No blinding light, no digital transition. Just… a breath.
Lihuen opened his eyes. It wasn't waking up — more like immersion. As if his senses were reconnecting one by one. He felt moisture on his skin, the prickle of moss against his neck, the thick scent of earth and ancient sap. The air was dense, heavier than mountain air, almost alive.
He slowly pushed himself up, palms pressed into spongy plant matter. His back rested against a colossal tree, wider than a house. Its veined bark seemed to pulse gently, to an irregular rhythm. Around him, the forest stretched endlessly, bathed in golden mist.
He had no memories. Not even his name. Only a faint echo remained, somewhere between his chest and throat, like a suspended note. A feeling that he wasn't entirely a stranger here. Just… lost.
He stood, unsteadily. Muscles numb, movements clumsy. Everything felt real — far more real than expected. The weight of his steps, the cold seeping beneath his tunic, the roughness of wind through the leaves. Nothing rang false. Nothing betrayed a simulated world.
He looked up.
On a ridge overlooking the clearing, a creature watched him.
Massive. Majestic. Its silhouette resembled that of a sphinx, but its scale dwarfed any terrestrial predator. Metallic-feathered flanks shimmered faintly; its stone-like claws seemed carved, and two spiraled horns crowned a skull marked by old scars.
Its eyes — pale twin moons — locked onto Lihuen. Not with anger. Not with pity. Just… an almost human focus.
He should have fled. Screamed. Bowed.
But he stood still. As if he knew this encounter was not a threat. Or maybe… it was meant to happen.
After a moment that felt infinite, the creature slowly turned its head, then spread its wings. Its body lifted into the mist and vanished beyond the canopy.
The world seemed to exhale.
Lihuen looked away. Behind him — the tree.
It hadn't moved, but something about it… called. Its roots formed natural arches; its branches vanished into the mist. At its base, a hollow appeared like a natural alcove.
And in the center, resting on a bed of glistening moss — an egg.
Pearly. Warm. Gently vibrating.
He approached, almost unwillingly, as if his body already knew what his mind refused to grasp. He extended his hand. Touched the shell.
A soft warmth spread through his palm. And for the space of a heartbeat, something… answered.
A resonance.
The egg cracked.
He flinched, but didn't move away. Stayed kneeling. A clawed paw split the shell, followed by a round head, long pointed ears, and two bright, unearthly blue eyes — intense, almost ethereal.
The creature emerged slowly, effortlessly, as if waking from an ancient slumber. Its sandy fur shimmered with diffuse light, covered in barely visible, shifting natural markings — like ancient glyphs dancing across its coat.
It blinked, approached, and without a sound, nestled against his chest.
As if it recognized 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 crumble — nothing mattered more than this feeling.
A rumble in the distance. Trees shook. Something massive thundered through the forest at high speed. An animal scream split the silence.
Lihuen tightened his hold and stood. He understood nothing. But instinct spoke louder. He turned and ran, barefoot through damp leaves, leaping between roots, fleeing without looking back.
He stopped only much later, in a suspended clearing. The air was lighter here. A distant waterfall whispered in the background. The mist formed halos around the trees.
He dropped to his knees, panting.
The creature in his arms hadn't moved.
— 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 in him, as if rebuilding something broken.
A sound.
A soft hum, almost imperceptible.
A platform hovered a few meters above the ground. Silent. Carried by a technology Lihuen couldn't begin to comprehend.
And on that platform — a man.
He stood tall, a calm, steady figure, like an anchor in the air. Aged in appearance, but not weakened. His back was straight, his movements deliberate. He carried the presence of an experienced wanderer — one who had seen too much to fear, but not enough to close himself off from the world.
His clothing — wide and functional — fluttered gently in the currents. A high-altitude coat, reinforced in places, designed for cold, wind, heights. Made of unfamiliar material — neither metal nor cloth. Nothing flashy. Just what was necessary. Every stitch had a purpose.
The machine descended slowly until it brushed the moss. He stepped down silently.
Lihuen didn't move. He watched. So did the man.
A long silence settled.
Then the man took a step forward.
— You came from in there? he said simply, gesturing to the forest.
Not really a question. Almost a whisper.
His eyes landed on the creature in Lihuen's arms.
— Hm. Not skittish.
He looked up again.
— Doesn't seem like you know what that is.
Then he looked at Lihuen again.
— And you don't look like you know what you are either.
For a second, his gaze darkened. But not coldly.
— You're not like the others. The ones born here. You've got that... thing. That silence in your eyes.
He crossed his arms.
— I know that look. You just dropped, didn't you?
Lihuen hesitated. Then nodded, slowly.
The man stepped back. Gestured to the platform.
— Want answers? Start by getting on.
Lihuen hugged the creature a little closer.
He looked at the tree one last time. Then stepped onto the platform.
It vibrated softly and began to rise, guided by a subtle pulse. The man stood beside him, hands behind his back, gaze fixed on the horizon.
The massive forest receded beneath them.
And ahead, in the pale light of the sky, the first arches of a suspended world came into view. Floating stone isles linked by bridges of energy. Towers rising above the clouds. Human figures gliding on aerial sails, drifting craft. A city anchored to the sky.
Lihuen held his breath.
He knew nothing. Not even his own name.
But somewhere up there, he might begin to understand.
The creature in his arms looked up at him, peaceful, alert. Its sandy fur shimmered with subtle, shifting glyphs. Its long ears twitched with every breeze.
Lihuen didn't know it yet, but this rare companion — born at the root of a forgotten tree-ship — belonged to a species thought extinct in nearly every known world.
A Kal'ra.