Belthea stood in the forest, beneath the vast canopy of living bloom and amber light. The air shimmered, thick with scent and sound, carrying the rhythm of a world still breathing around them. Her wings caught the sun in fractured hues of gold and violet, scattering warmth across the forest floor. Every movement of her body sang through the space between the trunks, a song so pure it bent the wind itself.

Come with me, daughter. We will walk. I am bringing you to those who can teach you to sing to the Mother.

The world responded. The trees leaned, leaves trembling with resonance, roots shifting faintly beneath their feet. The hum of the forest swelled, harmonizing with Belthea's melody until even the light seemed to pulse in time. The air carried the sweetness of nectar and the metallic scent of dew rising from moss.

Mondenkind followed her through shafts of color, the light pouring down in beams that painted her carapace in gold. Every step she took stirred the grass and drew faint echoes of song from the soil. Warren felt it through her, his awareness merging deeper, his thoughts carried on the tide of her rhythm. Together they moved, one soul split between bodies, one thought across two voices.

Belthea sang again as they passed through the towering bloom-trees, their stems glistening with flowing resin. Her melody shifted, deepened, and the world seemed to bow around them. Above, petals opened wide as though greeting her words. Below, small insects took flight, swirling in perfect spirals of light.

Then came the shudder.

It began beneath the roots, a vibration that didn't belong. The ground trembled, not in reverence but resistance. Mondenkind froze, her wings folding tight. Warren felt the pulse twist, foreign and cold, a pattern of logic intruding on song. The Power Nap's call rose from below, a mechanical summons that did not recognize divinity or beauty. It only recognized command.

Belthea's melody faltered. Her wings flared, catching the light in sudden alarm. Are you... The note unraveled, stretching until it lost meaning, the last sound splintering into infinity. The trees around them warped as the world began to tear.

Mondenkind reached out to her, a cry spilling from her throat without sound. She fought against the rising pull, wings spread wide as the forest blurred around them. The song cracked, splintering into fragments of color and sound. Warren braced with her, but the strength of the Skill was relentless. The forest, the song, Belthea, all began to dissolve.

The Power Nap Skill did not care.

It tore through dream and divinity alike, a command without conscience. The air broke into light, and Mondenkind clung to Warren, desperate to keep him there, but it was no use. The pull completed its cycle, and the skill obeyed only its own laws.

He was hurled upward through collapsing color, through himself, through the shadow that waited, the monster who bowed as he passed. Then the world inverted, dream breaking into waking.

He came to in silence, drenched in sweat and the sharp scent of alcohol. The forge's low hum greeted him like a heartbeat. Mondenkind's voice flickered through his mind, faint and drained. I don't think I can bring us back down for a while.

"Yeah," Vaeliyan muttered. "I can feel that."

The kitchen was chaos. Plates, bottles, and scattered food covered every surface. Jurpat was passed out halfway into a sandwich, Sylen crouched beside him with a marker in hand, still doodling in quiet focus. Rokhan had sealed himself in the forge, the faint pulse of molten work echoing behind the locked door.

Vaeliyan rubbed his temples and tried to activate Power Nap again. Nothing. "Internal cooldown," he muttered. "Figures." He sighed, pushed himself up, and stepped outside.

The estate floated quietly through the sky. The grass rolled in the wind, whispering like the sea. He walked to the edge and sat down, legs hanging over the side, the soil cool beneath his palms. The clouds flowed beneath him, slow and luminous. The drop was endless, a fall even he wouldn't survive, but the danger made it feel honest. He leaned back, watching the world drift beneath him, his hair tugged by the wind.

Footsteps pressed softly into the grass behind him. Xera came to sit beside him, her hair wild from the breeze and drink, eyes hazy but aware. She looked at the horizon, then down at the drop. "Aren't you afraid you'll fall? You're drunk."

He smiled, not looking at her. "Nah. I've got a balance skill. Keeps me centered, even when I shouldn't be." He flexed one foot over the abyss and chuckled. "See? Can't lose it."

She shook her head, amused but uneasy. "You're insane."

"Maybe." He tilted his head back, eyes half-closed, wind brushing his face. "But it's all I know."

They sat in silence after that, the estate gliding through open air, grass swaying around them like waves. Beneath them, the clouds shifted and broke apart, revealing hints of the distant world far below, unreachable and small.

Xera's voice cut through the wind, light but steady. "So," she said, half-teasing, half-tired, "did Chime give you the report yet?"

Vaeliyan blinked slowly, his eyes still hazy from drink. "No. I just woke up from a Power Nap." The words came out almost too calm for his state. "Rokhan's making a batch for everyone. He made me one, but I need another for Warren. It's an active skill sadly." He rubbed the back of his neck, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth.

"Fair," Xera said, laughing softly, her tone caught between amusement and exhaustion. "Still… must be weird, being two people at once. I don't think I could handle that. I can barely handle being one."

"Kind of," Vaeliyan admitted after a long pause. "At first it was strange, like answering to a name that wasn't mine. Every time someone said 'Warren,' it felt like they were talking to someone else standing right behind me. Then, after a while, it stopped feeling like pretending. Now it's just normal." He gestured loosely, fingers brushing through the air. "Vaeliyan and Warren. Two sides of the same credit."

Xera let out a short laugh, tossing a stray blade of grass into the wind. "Credits don't have sides. Who even came up with that saying?"

"Old metaphor," he said, smirking faintly. "Maybe credits used to be physical once. Like coins or paper or something you could actually hold. Imagine that, one credit chit, a hundred, a billion. The Nine would need vaults the size of a god's skull to store what they hoard."

She groaned softly. "Let's not think about the Nine. They haunt my nightmares."

He nodded, then squinted out toward the horizon where the estate's shadow rippled over the clouds below. "You read the report?" he asked after a moment, his voice quieter now, like he didn't want to break the peace that had settled over the air.

Xera blinked, remembering. "Oh. Right. Yeah. The report says we're getting around sixty billion for the ship."

He gave a low whistle. "That's… not bad."

"Sixty billion each," she added, leaning back on her hands, her hair flicking in the wind.

Vaeliyan's grin spread slow and deliberate, his eyes lighting with that familiar reckless spark. "That's not bad at all." He rolled the number around in his head, as if testing its weight. "Enough to fund a small army or buy a city block. Hell, maybe both."

"Enough to buy trouble," Xera muttered, eyes tracing the clouds. "That's what it always is."

He chuckled. "Yeah, probably. Trouble buys easy." He tilted his head, watching her. "Still… good payday."

For a while, neither of them spoke. The wind filled the silence, sweeping through the grass and over their legs. The hover rings hummed beneath them, a slow vibration that rose up through the ground and into their bones. Then Vaeliyan said, quieter this time, "You know what's fucked? We walked right into the same thing House Sable tried to push us into. No orders. No one telling us. We just did it."

Xera's mouth curved into something bitter. "Kills are kills. The Neuman attacked. We killed them. That's how it works. You don't need to dress it up."

He turned to her, his expression faintly searching. "Are you ever worried you're changing?"

She laughed under her breath, the sound soft and thin. "All the time. But not because of the killing. That's just the job. What scares me," she said slowly, "is how much I care. We were all killers. We all planned, trained, shaped for this. But now I care, and it's because of all of you. That's what's making it harder. Every time I see one of you, every time I think about what we've going to do, it weighs on me. I don't know how we're going to do this, but as long as you're all with me, we can stand together." She looked toward the horizon, her voice lowering to almost a whisper. "We can be evil, as long as we're not doing it to our own."

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Vaeliyan's eyes narrowed, though the corner of his mouth stayed tilted upward. "That's a fucked-up line."

"Yeah," she said softly. "It is. But it's honest." She picked a blade of grass and twisted it between her fingers until it snapped. "If those kids had died when we dropped that ship, it would've been easier. Clean. Over. Hells, maybe next time we just vaporize the whole damn thing." She let out a small, uneven laugh and sighed. "But when we saw them. We had to save them. That's it, we can't unknow that. If we ever find more, there's no way in any of the hells we walk away."

Vaeliyan's mouth twitched into something almost gentle. "Zero chance in the hells."

"Yeah," she said, her voice quieter now. "We're not those kinds of people."

He nodded slowly. "Would be nice if we were." Then, with a small smirk, he added, "But we're not. And maybe that's the point." He leaned back on his hands, the wind tugging at his hair. "And I'm fine with that."

The silence that followed wasn't hollow, it was alive, filled with motion and the faint hum of the world. The grass bowed and rippled in waves around them, their boots brushing against the edge of the estate's cliff. The clouds flowed beneath like white fire, endless and alive.

They stayed like that for a long time, neither moving, neither speaking, just two figures watching the world drift by beneath their feet, the sky carrying them forward into whatever came next.

Vaeliyan called out, his voice slurred but bright with drunken cheer. "Elian! Get out here! I got something to ask you!"

The door slid open with a hiss, and Elian immediately tripped on the threshold, arms flailing. He tumbled forward in a slow, chaotic roll that carried him right into the grass. For a moment he lay there, staring at the sky like he'd been shot. Then, with the determination only the very drunk can muster, he pushed himself up, swayed, took a step, and promptly tripped again. His forward momentum carried him dangerously close to the edge of the floating estate until Vaeliyan lunged forward and grabbed him by the collar.

"You know what?" Vaeliyan said, holding him upright as Elian's legs did their best impression of a newborn foal. "We should go inside. This is real dangerous for people like him who don't got balance."

"I got plenty of balance," Elian said proudly, wobbling. "And booze." He leaned forward and burped directly in Vaeliyan's face, eyes crossing slightly.

Vaeliyan blinked slowly. "Oh. Is that how I smell?"

Elian frowned, squinting like he was solving a complex equation. "No, you smell great. Like honey."

"I do not smell like honey," Vaeliyan said defensively, sniffing his own sleeve.

"No," Xera said from the grass, her voice lazy and amused. "He's right. You smell like honey."

Vaeliyan looked at her, genuinely perplexed. "That's weird. Why do I smell like honey?" He shrugged it off. "Okay, whatever. Let's go inside before somebody dies."

He half-dragged Elian upright and started walking back toward the house. The grass swayed around their bare feet, cool and soft under the drifting wind. The horizon glowed faint gold where the morning sun began to bleed through the cloudline below them. Everything felt like it was spinning just a little too slowly.

Then, from behind them, came a voice.

"Hey, guys! What's going on out here?"

Wesley stumbled down the steps, waving a half-empty bottle triumphantly. His hair stuck out in every direction, and his eyes had that glassy, ecstatic gleam of a man who had absolutely no idea what time it was. "Oh wow! Look at this! It's such a big house!" He ran toward the edge, then stopped inches from the drop, wind whipping his coat. "It's so pretty out here! Is that why you guys left me inside? Because you didn't like me?"

Vaeliyan turned his head slowly, blinking once. "What the hells is wrong with you, Wesley?"

"I don't know!" Wesley said brightly. "Everybody left, and I got lonely! Oh, also, you should totally come see what Sylen did to Jurpat's face. It's amazing!"

Xera sighed, already laughing. "Oh no. What did she do this time?"

"She made him into a kitty," Wesley said, giggling uncontrollably.

Vaeliyan rubbed his temples. "What do you mean she made him into a kitty?"

"She drew one! Like, a really good kitty! She used makeup and everything. He looks adorable. Like, artist-level detail. I think she even gave him whiskers. If we don't say anything, he'll never know until it's way too late."

Vaeliyan smirked despite himself. "Okay, that actually sounds funny."

"Right?!" Wesley said, proud and excited. "Oh, and Vaeliyan, sorry for interrupting you. But what were you calling Elian for? We was drinking before you called him."

Elian, still leaning heavily on Vaeliyan's shoulder, raised a finger like he was giving a lecture. "Oh yeah. What was it?"

Vaeliyan squinted at him. "I was gonna ask how I'm supposed to get unlimited power for my estate with my zoning license when Mara doesn't have unlimited power."

"You said Mara had a Green Zone, right?" Elian said with a sage nod. "That means they've got unlimited power. They're already hooked up to the grid. When you connect to the grid, it registers as your house drawing power, and you can draw unlimited power"

Elian blinked slowly, then hiccupped. "Well, when I say unlimited, I mean you couldn't really use it all, but yeah..."

"I get you," Vaeliyan said, nodding solemnly, as though discussing a sacred truth.

Elian suddenly straightened up, eyes lighting with excitement. "Oh! You wanna hear something cool about that? If we built a new city, they'd run a thingy through the Red to connect it to the grid from another city!"

Xera's eyes widened. "They run something through the Red? I thought the Red was just ruins."

Elian nodded vigorously, stumbling a little as he gestured. "It is but it isn't! They've got these massive drilly things that chew straight through it! They go brrrrr! They dig from one city to another, pulling these huge cables behind them, it's awesome! They supply everything, well, everything that's allowed to have power anyway."

Wesley blinked at him, wide-eyed. "That's insane."

"Yeah," Elian said proudly, grinning lopsidedly. "We make things work. Even when we shouldn't. That's what we do. That's why the Legion runs and the cities still glow. It's a mess, but it's a working mess."

Vaeliyan shook his head slowly. "Okay, that's enough city planning for one day. Let's go inside before you pass out or I decide to test how far you can fall before you sober up."

Elian laughed, still swaying. "Good idea. I wanna see Kitty Jurpat again."

"Kitty Jurpat?" Xera repeated, snorting. "That's his name now."

"Yeah," Vaeliyan said, nodding solemnly. "We're making that official. Someone get a holo. We need this moment saved forever."

Wesley was already halfway through another drink. "Oh yeah! A holo! Kitty Jurpat forever!" He started giggling again, nearly dropping his bottle.

Xera stood, brushing off her hands. "We're all just a bunch of walking disasters, aren't we?"

"Functioning disasters," Vaeliyan corrected, staggering to his feet. "Mostly functioning."

They all started shuffling back toward the house, laughing, nudging each other, the sound of their voices rolling out into the open air. The grass swayed, the sky shimmered, and the world below stretched into nothing. Their laughter echoed out across the sky as the estate drifted on, carrying its half-drunk crew of killers and fools, still alive, still together, and somehow, still fine.

When Vaeliyan and the rest stumbled back into the house, it was to chaos, but this time, it was the wrong kind. Styll stood on the counter like a warlord, tail flicking with venomous irritation, eyes narrowed in drunken fury. Jurpat sat slumped below her, his face still streaked with orange and black stripes, but now ruined by streaks of moisture and smeared lines. The proud tiger had melted into a pitiful mess.

"Kitties you's ins Stylls spots! Bad Kitties!" she barked, slapping him again, though it was half-hearted now, sloppy and mean. Her voice carried the low growl of someone teetering between rage and nausea.

Jurpat groaned. "Please, Styll, I didn't even move!"

Wesley froze in the doorway, his expression falling in slow motion as the horror set in. "Oh no," he whispered. "Oh no, no, no, no. The makeup, look at it! It's ruined!" He dropped to his knees like a man watching the fall of a civilization. "We were going to record it! We were going to immortalize Kitty Jurpat!"

Xera's laughter died instantly. "Oh, shit. I didn't..."

Wesley looked up at her, eyes wide and furious. "You got her drunk! Vaeliyan warned us all."

Xera stepped back, defensive. "I thought it would be funny! He said she was just a little mean when she drinks!"

Vaeliyan, standing by the door, exhaled through his nose. "No. I said, and I quote, 'Never get Styll drunk unless you want to experience adorable domestic violence.'" He pointed a finger toward her without looking away from the carnage. "You did this. This is all you."

"I didn't think you were serious!" Xera shouted. "She's always so sweet! I thought it'd be fun!"

Jurpat wiped at his ruined face, leaving streaks of orange and black across his cheeks. "Fun for who?!"

Styll turned toward them all, her glare wobbling but intense. "Fun for Stylls," she declared, slapping Jurpat again for good measure. "Stylls queen of kitties!"

Wesley threw his arms into the air. "No, you monster! Not the queen of kitties! You destroyed him!" He pointed accusingly at Xera. "You ruined Kitty Jurpat! This was supposed to be art! Legacy!"

Styll's slapping intensified. "KITTY! PURR LOUDER!"

Jurpat purred purely out of self-defence. "I'm purring! I'm purring, alright?!"

"Good kitty," Styll said darkly, her voice dropping to a tone that made even Wesley stop laughing for a second. "Now stay down."

Vaeliyan walked past them all, utterly unbothered. "This is what happens when you mix stupidity with liquor. I told you all." He gestured lazily toward Styll. "You get her drunk, you clean it up."

"Wait, Vaeliyan!" Xera shouted, panic rising. "She's going to,"

Styll gagged.

The room fell silent.

"Oh no," Jurpat whispered. "Don't."

Then she suddenly swayed, tail puffing, eyes unfocused. "Oh nos. Stylls no feels good. Stylls tummy yucky." Her body lurched, one paw-like hand clutching her stomach. "Stylls… gonna throw up."

The moment stretched like a blade being drawn. Then came the explosion.

The sound was apocalyptic. The force sent Wesley ducking behind a chair. Xera screamed. Jurpat yelled in pure disbelief. The smell hit next.

"Oh gods!" Wesley cried. "She nuked him! She nuked Kitty Jurpat!"

Xera covered her face. "It's in my hair! It's everywhere!"

Vaeliyan, halfway down the hall already, raised his voice without turning around. "Not my problem. Actions. Consequences. Enjoy parenting."

Jurpat slid off the counter, his expression dead and hollow. "I hate everything."

Wesley wiped his face with a towel and threw it dramatically to the ground. "You've ruined art, Xera! You've robbed the world of perfection! We didn't even get the holo!"

Xera looked around helplessly, dripping with regret and something worse. "I'm sorry, okay?! I didn't think it'd go this far!"

"Too far!" Elian yelled. "Not cool Xera!"

Styll groaned from the floor, muttering through half-coherent curses. "Everyone's loud. Kitty quiet. Kitty soft." She slapped Jurpat's face one last time, then rolled over and passed out cold.

Jurpat stared down at her, makeup smeared, dignity dead. "I want a refund on this night."

Vaeliyan's voice echoed faintly from the hallway, calm and detached. "Somebody mop it up before morning. And if it touches my boots, Xera, I'll make sure she sleeps in your room next time."

The silence that followed was heavy. Then Wesley sniffled, holding up the ruined makeup kit. "It was so young… so beautiful."

Jurpat groaned. "I'm going to bed."

"No," Wesley whispered, shaking his head. "Not until we avenge this injustice."

Xera threw up her hands. "He's not even dead!"

Wesley pointed dramatically toward her. "My spirit is!"

Vaeliyan's laughter, soft, low, and deeply satisfied, echoed faintly from his room. He wasn't helping, and he didn't need to. The mess would sort itself out. Eventually.

(New) Power Nap (Active): A rapid-reset neurological override that forces the body into a compressed sleep cycle. Upon activation, the user immediately collapses into a state of total muscular shutdown while the skill induces an accelerated restorative process. Ten minutes of unconsciousness are converted into the hormonal, cognitive, and metabolic equivalent of several hours of deep sleep.

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