Turning to the left, Roan followed the narrow path that wound toward the garden. The vegetation was lush, a blend of Plateauan herbs and vegetables thriving in neat rows. Their vivid colors—deep greens, purples, and oranges—stood out starkly against the island’s rocky terrain.
Rounding a corner, Roan’s steps slowed. He caught sight of the familiar figure of his grandfather, kneeling before a statue at the edge of the garden. The statue’s craftsmanship was exquisite, capturing the gentle strength of Roan’s mother with haunting accuracy. Her serene expression seemed to watch over the garden, her hands delicately folded as if in prayer.
But it wasn’t just Calstar and the statue that held Roan’s attention.
A woman stood beside his grandfather, her presence as unexpected as it was unsettling. She was backlit by the sunlight, the delicate lines of her figure soft yet purposeful. As she turned, her wide, curious eyes met Roan’s, and his breath caught. She bent down to help his grandfather to his feet, her movements unhurried and filled with a quiet confidence. Calstar ignored her extended hand and declined her offer of assistance with a slight shake of his head.
Roan didn’t realize he had stopped in the middle of the path until his fingers curled into tight fists.This is what they feared? he thought, his stomach clenching as the weight of his discovery settled over him.This is what they were willing to kill for.
The woman didn’t look like anything he had expected. She wasn’t a warrior clad in armor or a figure of myth come to life. She was… ordinary, at least outwardly. And yet, there was something in the way she carried herself, something in her steady gaze, that sent a ripple of unease through him.
He forced his body to move, each step deliberate and slow. He stopped a few feet away, his eyes locked on hers. A light breeze pulled a strand of her hair loose, sending it drifting across her face. She lifted a hand, brushing it back behind her ear with a motion so simple, so familiar, that it made his chest tighten.
Her expression was cautious, her lips pressed into a line as she studied him. There was no smile of greeting, no warmth in her demeanor, only an unreadable wariness. She was assessing him, just as he was assessing her.
The tension broke when Calstar spoke, his voice trembling but steady enough to carry the weight of his words.
“Roan, you have come. I knew you would,” Calstar said, his tone both relieved and resigned.
Roan’s gaze flickered briefly to his grandfather, but it returned almost immediately to the woman. He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging his grandfather’s words, but the words he wanted to say were for her.
Who are you?he wanted to ask. But he held his tongue, knowing the answers would come soon enough—and knowing that those answers might change everything.
* * *
Julia stared at the stranger who had emerged, her breath catching in her throat. Curiosity tangled with a sharp thread of fear, tightening her chest. Her first instinct was to hide—in the hut, among the garden’s neatly tended rows, or perhaps in the cascade of vines that spilled over the island’s edge like a living curtain. But it was too late for that. The sleek spacecraft circling overhead had already heralded its arrival with a quiet precision that contrasted with the silent grace of Plateau’s erebidae riders.
She stayed rooted, her gaze fixed on the ship as it descended in controlled spirals. The sunlight gleamed off its polished surface, a metallic contrast to the natural beauty of the island. Julia’s mind raced, cataloging every detail, from the emblem emblazoned on its hull to the faint hum of its thrusters.
This was no Plateauan craft.
“Calstar?” she murmured, her voice tight with unease.
The old man remained where he knelt, carefully arranging a cluster of vibrant, bell-shaped flowers at the base of the statue. He didn’t look up, his gnarled hands moving with deliberate care as though the arrival of the spacecraft was no more disruptive than a passing breeze.
“It is my grandson,” Calstar said softly, his tone laced with a quiet inevitability.
Julia’s brow furrowed. “Roan? But… isn’t he—” Her voice faltered, unable to mask the edge of concern.
Calstar finally lifted his gaze, his weathered face calm but shadowed with an unspoken sadness. He placed a hand on the statue of his daughter, his fingers brushing the carved likeness of her folded hands. “He is not all his father nor his uncle,” he murmured.
Julia pressed her lips together, torn between questions and caution. She had been careful not to push Calstar too far during their conversations, observing more than speaking. Now, a part of her regretted that restraint.
What didn’t I ask? What did I miss?
The ship landed smoothly, its thrusters emitting a soft hiss as they powered down. Julia tensed as the hatch opened, her pulse quickening. When the man emerged, her breath hitched. Roan Landis was nothing like she had imagined.
Tall and broad-shouldered, he moved with a quiet, restrained energy, like a predator surveying unfamiliar territory. His black hair caught the light as the wind teased it into motion, but it was his eyes that held her. They were sharp and piercing, the same color as Calstar’s but devoid of the elder’s warmth.
Julia barely noticed when Calstar placed a steadying hand on her arm. She glanced down at the old man, her muscles still taut with the urge to flee, but his calm expression steadied her.“Relax,”his smile seemed to say, though his lips remained pressed in a firm line.
Roan’s focus fell on her, and she felt the weight of it as if he had physically reached out and touched her. His steps slowed as he approached, his boots crunching softly against the gravel path. Julia’s mind whirred, cataloging the similarities between him and his grandfather. He bore Calstar’s thicker build and strong features, but his height and aristocratic air belonged entirely to Roanna.
“You… came from one of the space capsules?” Roan asked.
His voice was low, weighted with something Julia couldn’t decipher—curiosity, suspicion, something more dangerous. She stiffened and her pulse quickened. She had expected accusations, hostility, maybe even a demand for surrender. Not this measured intensity.
He caught her off guard. She hadn’t anticipated the rich cadence of his voice wrapping around her like a warm blanket on a cold night, nor her own curiosity about him.