The underground shelter of New Asemeri was quiet, save for the distant hum of ventilation systems and the occasional murmur of voices from the corridors outside.
Inside a small room, Tlandar sat in silent meditation, his legs crossed, his breathing steady. His hands rested on his knees, palms facing upward in a pose of quiet focus. The world outside was uncertain, restless, on the edge of war—but here, in this moment, he let himself be still.
Thoughts swirled in his mind. Va'katl fought alone. New Asemeri would not send aid. The barrier would soon rise, sealing the city in.
But beyond all of that, he realized something deeper.
He did not want to fight.
Not because he lacked conviction. Not because he thought Va'katl's cause was unworthy. But because it was not his path.
He had grown up on his family's ranch in Verdantis Nexus, waking at dawn to tend to the animals, working alongside his father and siblings to keep the land thriving. That was where he belonged. He had never dreamed of war, never sought to be a warrior.
He had loved the open fields, the forests, the quiet rhythms of life—things that had nothing to do with battle, nothing to do with bloodshed.
And yet, war had come for him anyway.
His fingers curled into his palms, gripping at nothing. He had lost his home. He had lost everything. And now, everyone expected him to fight.
But how could he?
He was not a warrior. He was a rancher.
The war had taken away his past. But it did not have to take his future.
For the first time since arriving in New Asemeri, Tlandar knew what he wanted.
He would not throw himself into a battle he could not win.
Instead, he would stay. He would find work, take care of his sisters, and see what else life in this city had to offer.
This was his decision.
He exhaled slowly, feeling a strange sense of peace settle over him.
A Quiet Goodbye
The door hissed open, and Saryna stepped inside, arms folded. She watched him for a moment, leaning against the doorframe.
"You're still here."
Tlandar did not open his eyes. "For now."
She exhaled, tilting her head. "You've been thinking too much."
"I have a lot to think about."
Saryna scoffed. "No, you don't. You already made your choice."
His breath steadied. "Did I?"
"Yeah." She stepped forward. "You're staying."
Tlandar finally opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. "And if I am?"
Saryna shrugged. "Then I guess you're not as reckless as I thought."
A long silence.
Then, a small, knowing smirk touched her lips. "But don't think that means you're off the hook for making a boring decision."
Tlandar studied her for a moment. "You're not going to convince me otherwise?"
She shook her head. "No. But don't get comfortable, either. This city isn't as safe as they want us to believe."
He exhaled, standing up.
"I'll figure it out."
Saryna sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Just don't get too comfortable."
And with that, she left.
The Voices of the Shelter
Not long after, the door opened again.
His three sisters—Lirien, Nalara, and Kethra—walked in, carrying fresh ration packs from the distribution center.
Lirien, the eldest of the three, set hers down on the small table in the corner and glanced at Tlandar, still seated on the floor.
"You were meditating again?"
Tlandar exhaled slowly. "Thinking."
Kethra, the youngest, flopped onto his cot. "It's too quiet in here. Everyone's talking outside."
Nalara sat down beside her. "The shelter's more crowded than ever. Some people are relieved the energy barrier is being built—they think it'll keep us safe forever."
Lirien crossed her arms. "Not everyone believes that. Some of the refugees from Verdantis Nexus have been whispering that something feels wrong."
Tlandar looked at her. "What do you mean?"
She frowned slightly. "They say the city feels... different. Like we're trapped. Even if we're safe from Cosmus, something's coming. They don't know what, but they feel it."
Kethra rolled her eyes. "You know how people are. Always looking for an excuse to be scared."
Nalara shook her head. "It's not just the refugees. Even some of the guards outside the supply station looked uneasy."
Tlandar sat quietly, listening.
Lirien sighed. "The barrier isn't even up yet, and already people are acting like we've locked ourselves in a tomb."
Kethra pulled a blanket over herself, lying back against the cot. "Maybe we have."
Tlandar's gaze drifted toward the closed door.
For all its promises of safety, the underground shelter no longer felt like a refuge.
It felt like a waiting room before something inevitable arrived.
And yet, he found himself wanting to believe in the safety of this place.
For the first time since arriving, he accepted the idea that New Asemeri could be a home.
He wasn't a warrior. He wasn't a leader.
But maybe he could work here, help his sisters, find another way forward.
He thought of the forests and the fields—of a world without war, a life that didn't involve running or fighting.
Yes. That's what he wanted.
For now, this was enough.
Elsewhere in New Asemeri…
In the dim corridors of the underground shelter, a woman in a dark red robe moved carefully through the halls.
She was Salgaran, her sharp features partially hidden by the hood she wore. She walked with a quiet confidence, but her presence was an unusual one—Salgarans rarely came to New Asemeri, and even fewer entered its shelters.
She approached a Velik'Ashar officer, his uniform crisp but his stance weary, as if he had spent too many hours keeping order among the restless refugees.
"I seek someone," she said, her voice calm but firm.
The officer narrowed his eyes. "This is a restricted zone. Who are you looking for?"
The woman's gaze was steady. "A young man. Recently arrived. He carries the weight of the past but does not yet see the path ahead."
The officer frowned. "That describes half the refugees down here."
"Perhaps. But only one of them is ready."
The officer watched her warily, but something in her calm, deliberate tone intrigued him. Her voice was unlike the others he dealt with daily. Measured. Unhurried. Certain.
"You speak differently," he muttered.
The woman tilted her head slightly. "Words are meant to guide, not fill space."
The officer hesitated. "If you're looking for someone specific, take it to the registry. The council doesn't like unknowns wandering around."
The woman said nothing for a moment. Then, with a small nod, she turned and continued walking.
The officer's eyes followed her, his curiosity lingering.
She would find him soon enough.