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A etherial

The twin suns blazed high in the crimson sky, their light casting a deep glow over the endless stretches of dark red soil. The landscape was a rugged masterpiece of towering cliffs, jagged rock formations cut into the colorful sandstone, and boulders so massive they seemed to have been carved by giants. The dry wind carried the scent of sunbaked earth and the faint whisper of distant storms.

Dorane ran barefoot across the dusty ground, his laughter echoing through the canyon. He dodged between the boulders, chasing Shep and the others, their voices a symphony of youthful exuberance.

“Try to catch me, Dorane!” Shep taunted, his wiry frame darting through a narrow crevice between two massive stones.

“Just wait!” Dorane grinned, scrambling after him.

Six of them played among the rocky outcroppings—Shep, Kalna, Orren, Tiev, Miris, and little Ryl. They leaped from stone to stone, kicking up fine clouds of red dust, their feet calloused and tough from years of running over the harsh terrain. The village sprawled below them, a collection of dome-shaped huts built from sand-hardened clay, their rounded forms blending into the arid landscape.

Dorane skidded to a stop, raising a hand to shield his eyes when a shadow passed over them. The others slowed, their laughter fading as they turned their faces skyward. The silhouette of a dark gray ship cut against the bright sky, the hum of its engines a distant growl growing steadily louder.

“A ship!” Miris whispered.

“It’s a Legion ship,” Tiev added, his voice tinged with awe.

Dorane narrowed his eyes, watching the dark, angular shape descend toward the village. It was a troop transport, sleek and menacing, its underbelly splitting open as landing struts extended.

“Why is the Legion here?” Kalna asked, her excitement dimming to unease.

“They never come here,” Shep muttered, crouching low behind a ridge of rock. The others followed suit, instinctively pressing themselves into the shadows, their game forgotten.

The transport settled onto the outskirts of the village, a plume of dust rising in its wake. The hiss of hydraulics signaled the ramp lowering, and then they emerged—Legion soldiers in matching dark gray uniforms, their visors gleaming in the sunlight.

Dorane’s stomach twisted. The Legion only came to the Outer Settlements for one reason.

“Something’s wrong,” he murmured.

The children fell silent as a figure strode out onto the ramp. He was tall, his uniform crisp, adorned with the insignia of power. Even at nine years old, Dorane understood rank, and this man held it like a blade.

General Coleridge Landais.

Dorane had never seen him in person, only heard his name in hushed conversations between his parents and the village elders. He was said to be ruthless, a conqueror who saw the Outer Settlements as nothing more than pieces on a board.

Why is he here?

Dorane’s gaze followed the general as he stepped onto the packed soil of their village. The village leader, an older man named Ralvek, approached him with cautious deference. Their voices were too far away to hear, but then Ralvek pointed—at Dorane’s house.

Dorane’s stomach clenched.

His mother stood outside their home, a woven basket of cloth draped over her arms. She stood watching the scene unfold. Her head was held high. Dorane smiled, pride swelling in his chest. His mother never bowed to anyone. A second later, his father stepped out of their home.

Dorane didn’t understand what happened next. One second the Legion General was walking toward his parents, and the next, he lifted a blaster and fired. He never even spoke. The Legion General just… fired on his father.

His father crumpled to the ground.

Dorane’s world snapped apart.

The moment stretched, surreal, endless. His breath caught in his throat as his mother lunged forward, her cry barely escaping before another shot fired. Her body folded, collapsing beside his father in the dirt.

Dorane’s ears rang with the sound of the shots, his vision tunneling as the world around him fragmented. The voices of his friends blurred into meaningless noise. His limbs locked, his breath stalled, and for the first time in his life, he understood what true terror was.

The village erupted. Screams burst from the residents as blaster fire rang out. The Legion soldiers surged forward, storming into homes and cutting down… everyone. The scent of scorched flesh filled his nose. Dorane’s legs trembled beneath him.

“No,” Shep whispered.

Kalna bolted, sprinting down the hill.

“No! Stop!” Dorane hissed, but it was too late. Two more children followed, rushing toward their families.

They didn’t make it.

Blaster fire cut through the air, bright streaks against the backdrop of rising smoke. Kalna jerked mid-step, her body hitting the ground in a heap. The others fell a second later.

Dorane’s heart pounded in his chest. He grabbed Shep’s arm and pulled on him.

“Run,” he rasped.

Shep didn’t move. His face was ashen, frozen in shock. Dorane wrenched at him, dragging him back, but a new sound filled the air—a screeching roar as fighter skids swept over the landscape, their engines flaring as they turned toward the hill.

“They see us,” Tiev breathed.

Dorane shoved Shep, his voice raw. “Run! Now!”

The others scrambled away, vanishing into the rocky outcroppings. But Shep wouldn’t move.

Dorane had no choice.

He let go.

Shep lay on the ground, out in the open, unmoving. He just stared blankly down at the devastation below. Dorane didn’t look back. He ran—down the opposite side of the hill, away from the carnage, away from the screams, away from everything he had known.

Weaving between the rocks, he dove beneath a boulder wedged between two cliffs and pressed his shaking body into the tight, dark space. His hands scrabbled at the loose rocks, pulling them in front of him, covering himself as best he could.

The ground trembled as the skids screamed overhead. Dust rained down around him, stinging his eyes, choking his throat. The sounds of more blasters screeched through the air. He covered his ears with his dirty hands and closed his eyes.

He curled into himself.

And he waited.

Two days later, the silence was worse than the noise. Dorane crawled out from beneath the boulder, blinking against the harsh sunlight. His body ached, his throat burned, his stomach twisted with hunger—but he barely noticed.

His feet carried him over the ridge, back toward the village. Shep lay in the same place that Dorane had left him. His friend looked almost as if he had fallen asleep there—if it hadn’t been for the stain of blood and the scorch mark across his back. Dorane wanted to turn his eyes away as he stumbled past, but he couldn’t.

The wind howled through the corridor lined with huts, stirring ashes where homes once stood. The dome huts were crumbling, some reduced to skeletal remains of what they had been. Scorch marks blackened the ground.

Bodies lay where they had fallen.

Dorane walked forward in a daze, his eyes hollow, his mind blank. His parents’ bodies remained in the dirt where they had been left, their hands inches apart, almost touching.

He staggered past them, toward his home. Inside, the air was thick, stale. He stepped over the threshold and froze.

His younger sister and brother lay on the floor, their small forms still and lifeless.

A sound tore from his throat—raw, broken. He dropped to his knees, his arms wrapping around his thin legs as his body shook. The light faded outside as he sat there, shivering, locked in grief and shock, before fatigue finally pulled him into a fitful sleep.

A low buzzing sound woke Dorane. Rolling to his feet, he released a low, feral growl when he saw the flies around his little sister. Scrambling over to the couch on his knees, he ripped the cover his mother had made off of it and rose on shaky feet to cover Saffin’s petite body.

Grief tore through him, but he was too dehydrated for any tears to fall. Instead, he murmured a low prayer to give him strength. Stumbling through the doorway, he looked at the devastation surrounding him. He would not leave his people to rot out in the open. They would not become food for the scavengers who lived among the rocks. They deserved better than that.

Dorane rounded the house to the small shed that contained his father’s tools. The Legion soldiers had ransacked it, just like they had ransacked the inside of his house.

He pulled a shovel from under the discarded debris. Over the course of the day, he dug two graves in the center of their garden where the dirt had been tilled. Dorane ignored the blisters that formed and the blood that dripped from his fingers. He continued until the graves were deep enough to hold his parents and his little brother and sister.

One by one, he dragged them, wrapped in bedsheets, to the shallow graves. He placed his father and little brother in one and his mother and little sister in the other. Then he covered them. First with dirt, then with colorful sandstones.

He didn’t stop.

When he was finished with his family, he climbed the hill. He spent the next five days picking up rocks and covering the bodies of his friends and their families. He wasn’t strong enough to dig their graves. By the time he finished, his body was nothing but exhaustion and emptiness.

Trembling with fatigue, Dorane collapsed inside his home and slept.

The sun rose and set three times before he finally stirred, driven by hunger and thirst to wake up. He crawled into the kitchen, too weak to stand, and picked through the items scattered across the floor. The juice of the fruit soothed his parched throat while the sweet flesh and meat filled his stomach.

There’s nothing left. There’s no one left.

Dorane bowed his head, his thin shoulders shaking. Sniffing, he wiped his nose with the back of his hand as his mother’s gentle voice floated through his mind.

“You are the son of a Knight of the Gallant Order.”

“What does that mean?”

Dorane sniffed again and tilted his head back. He could almost feel his mother’s gentle caress as she brushed his hair back and tweaked his nose.

“You are blessed, Dorane. Both your father and I are Gallant Knights. The Staffs you play with are powerful weapons, and one day, one of them will be yours. We are the protectors of the people—all people.”

“But… why are you and Papa here if you are warriors?”

“Because now we must protect you and your brother and sister.”

“What if the Legion comes? I’ve heard you and Papa say they are not good.”

“Let us hope they do not. If they do, we will do what we have to. One day, you will understand. Now, let us practice.”

Dorane’s gaze turned to the wall where his parents hid the powerful weapons of the Gallant Knights. His father said it was to protect them. That only a true Knight of the Gallant could use them.

He stood and walked over to the metal vent. He pushed aside the end table that had been broken and pulled it out. Inside were two plain wooden boxes. He pulled one out and opened it. His father’s Gallant Staff lay on a bed of velvet.

He lifted it in his hand, running his fingers over the inscriptions. His gaze moved to his mother’s. With a deep sigh, he replaced the vent cover. No one would come here. The village would always be left as it is—a reminder and a place where restless spirits were trapped.

Packing what little he had, he stood in the doorway, looking at the only home he had ever known.

And then—he shut the door.

One day, he would return.

One day, the Legion would pay.

Earth:

Outside Beijing, China – The Zhang Estate

The courtyard was silent except for the rhythmic whisper of fabric slicing through the air. Twelve-year-old Mei Li Hú stood in the center of the polished stone training grounds, her petite frame poised with unnatural precision. Around her, the shadows of her father’s elite guards lingered, their watchful gazes sharp and assessing.

She moved.

Each step was precise, calculated. The controlled turn of her wrist, the sharp pivot of her foot—each motion executed with the quiet grace of a dancer, but the deadly intent of a warrior.

Her bare feet skimmed the cold stone as she transitioned into Lán Zhǎo—a sweeping arc meant to redirect an opponent’s energy. The movement was flawless. Too flawless.

Mei did not hesitate. A perfect student. A perfect weapon.

A slow clap shattered the stillness.

Her father, Liu Zhang, stepped forward from the shaded terrace. His dark eyes glinted with something unreadable as he studied her. The guards immediately straightened.

Mei did not.

She kept her posture firm, her breathing steady, waiting. Waiting for his judgment.

He walked toward her with deliberate slowness, the soft click of his polished shoes against the stone stretching the silence taut. When he stopped before her, he said nothing, letting the weight of his presence settle over her like an invisible chain.

Then, quietly? —

“Again,” he instructed.

Mei’s fingers twitched at her sides. She bowed her head. There would be no praise. There never was.

She reset her stance and moved into the sequence again, the fabric whispering around her like ghosts.

Her father circled her as she moved, his expression unreadable. Then, with the barest flick of his fingers—a silent command.

The guard closest to her lunged.

Mei felt the shift in the air before she saw it. Instinct took over. She twisted, narrowly avoiding the strike aimed at her fragile ribs. She countered—a small palm snapping against the young guard’s wrist, redirecting his balance.

He recovered quickly, but she was faster.

Her foot hooked behind his knee, her body spinning as she used his own momentum against him . He staggered.

A second’s hesitation—and Mei sent the man sprawling against the stones, relieved him of his weapon, and stood over him with the QSZ-92 semi-automatic pistol pointed at his temple.

Then—she pulled the trigger.

The click resonated through the enclosed courtyard. Mei stared into the guard’s terrified eyes. For a fraction of a second, so quick it could have been imagined, a flicker of something twisted in her chest. Then it was gone. She watched dispassionately as the guard’s head fell back against the smooth stone, sweat beading on his forehead, and he swallowed noticeably as he stared back at her.

She had passed her father’s test.

Her father lifted a hand. The guard shakily climbed to his feet, bowed, and stepped away. Mei straightened, released the clip, and checked it and the chamber to make sure they were empty before she turned to face her father. Her breath came steady despite the sharp pulse in her veins. Her father’s gaze was sharp as he took a step closer, his voice a quiet decree.

“Exceptional.”

She had done well. The word curled in Mei’s stomach like an icy knot. It should have felt like praise. It didn’t.

It felt like ownership.

He turned to the assembled guards, his voice smooth as silk, yet edged with steel.

“She will begin the next phase of her training immediately. No limitations.”

The guards bowed.

Mei stood still, absorbing the meaning of those words. There was no joy in them. No pride.

Only a deeper confirmation of what she already knew.

Her father was not looking at her like a daughter.

He was looking at her like a weapon.

And she had just sealed her fate.

From the Terrace, Behind the Silk Screen

Ming Li Hú watched from the shadows, her slender fingers tightening around the embroidered sleeve of her robe. Her heart clenched as she witnessed what she had long feared—the moment the man who controlled her life now claimed Mei as his tool, rather than his child.

They were not married. Her family’s standing was not high enough for such a status. She was a tool, just as her daughter would be.

A searing pain, a deep regret, and a fierce determination battled within her. For years, she’d felt the approaching weight of this day, a sense of dread mixed with anticipation. While her parents had remained oblivious to the life they were sentencing her to when they accepted Lui’s offer of financial support in exchange for their daughter, Ming had been diligently preparing Mei for a different life, her actions quiet but purposeful.

She had seen it in Liu Zhang’s eyes since the day Mei first displayed her talent. A child prodigy. A perfect creation. His ambition had taken root then, and today, it had borne fruit.

Ming’s dark eyes softened as she studied her daughter—small but strong, delicate but unyielding. So much like her.

The way Mei’s jaw tightened in the face of her father’s cold praise, the way she held herself still, controlled, when every child should have been basking in the warmth of their parent’s approval. Mei understood, even at such a fragile, impressionable age.

Liu Zhang had never looked at Mei the way a father should.

And that was why she had quietly taught Mei what he never would.

Not through rebellion. No—Mei could not afford open defiance. The world Mei lived in, the world Ming had long endured, was not kind to women who fought too openly.

She had taught Mei the art of quiet resistance.

She showed her daughter how to survive in a world of powerful men, without them even realizing she was slipping from their control.

Ming released a slow breath, smoothing her sleeve as she stepped back into the shadows.

The time would come for Mei to choose her own path.

And when it did, she would be ready.

Even if Ming was no longer there to guide her.

Beijing: Twelve years later

The city stretched out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a glittering sea of neon and steel. Mei stepped into the cavernous office of Liu Zhang, her father, barely glancing at the panoramic view of Beijing below. She had grown up surrounded by wealth and power, but neither had ever belonged to her.

Her father sat behind his sleek, black desk, his hands folded in front of him, his face unreadable. Standing beside him was a man in a crisply pressed suit. Mei quickly categorized him as the Chinese military. His posture was stiff, his expression neutral, but Mei didn’t miss the way he studied her the moment she entered.

“Come in, Mei,” her father said, his voice as smooth as polished stone.

She obeyed, stepping forward, her movements controlled, precise. Years of discipline had taught her that weakness was never tolerated in his presence.

“This is Major Xiao Cheng,” her father gestured to the officer. “He is here on behalf of the government.”

Mei gave the man a polite nod, her mind already piecing together what this meant. Her father rarely entertained guests unless they were useful to his ambitions.

Her father continued, his voice calm but edged with something sharp. “You have been accepted as a representative for a special exploratory mission to space.”

Mei blinked, momentarily surprised. Of all the things she had expected, this was not one of them.

“It is called Project Gliese 581g ,” her father explained. “Something has been found in space… something alien. The government wants information. You will be part of a carefully selected crew tasked with studying what has been discovered.”

She listened as her father summarized what had happened. An accident. A change in crew. A new opportunity. She knew immediately there had been no accident. There seldom was during a mission of this scope.

She didn’t miss the glance he exchanged with the major, nor the way the officer’s jaw tensed. This wasn’t just about discovery—it was about control. Intelligence gathering. Spying.

Xiao Cheng spoke then, his voice firm, clipped, confirming her suspicions. “Your mission is not simply exploration, Ms. Li Hú. You will be trained to gather intel on the technology being developed onboard and report any findings once contact is made.” His dark eyes measured her reaction. “You are to bring back anything of value.”

Mei felt a thrill of excitement coil in her chest, but she did not let it show. She simply inclined her head, her voice steady. “I understand.”

Her father studied her, his gaze piercing. “I called in many favors to ensure your assignment to this mission, Mei. It was not easy and came at a substantial cost. You must not fail.”

He didn’t say it with concern, only expectation. Success was the only thing that mattered to him.

“I will not disappoint you,” she said evenly.

The words came easily, practiced over years of training. But this time, for the first time, they held a different meaning to her.

She turned and walked out of the office, careful not to let her stride betray the anticipation humming beneath her skin. This was it—her chance. A way off this planet. A way out from under his control.

The rhythmic clicking of her heels down the corridor was abruptly interrupted by the heavier sound of following footsteps. She maintained her pace, recognizing her companion before he could speak, as he hastened to join her.

“Ms. Li Hú, a moment, please.”

Mei glanced sideways, meeting Major Cheng’s assessing gaze. He wasn’t just studying her—he was fascinated.

“You are… different from what I expected,” he said.

She kept her expression neutral. “Oh? How so?”

“I have read about you,” he said casually. “Your father was very… thorough in sharing your accomplishments.”

Of course, he would be, she thought with disdain.

Mei had spent years ensuring that the world saw only what she wanted them to see. If this man thought he knew her, he was mistaken.

“Then you must know everything there is to know about me,” she said, her voice smooth, careful.

His lips quirked slightly. “Not everything, I suspect, but I would like to remedy that. Perhaps at dinner tonight?”

They reached the entrance of the building. A sleek black car pulled up, its tinted windows gleaming under the city lights. The driver stepped out, opening the door for the major.

“I’m afraid I have to decline, Major Cheng,” she replied with an edge of coolness to her voice. “I already have a previous engagement.”

“Regrettable. Perhaps we will have another chance in the future.” Xiao paused on the sidewalk and turned to face her. His dark gaze flickered with something unreadable. “You remind me of a lioness.”

Mei arched a brow. “How so?”

“There is a stillness in you,” he said. “Most people would not see it, but I do.” He hesitated, then added, “It is the lionesses who hunt. And if necessary, they will bring down a male who threatens them.”

Mei smiled slightly, tilting her head. “Interesting.”

Xiao held her gaze for a moment longer before he slid into the car. As it pulled away, his eyes remained on her, watching. Mei suppressed the urge to frown. There was something in his expression—not admiration. Something sharper. Calculating.

Mei chuckled under her breath, her mind already focused on her next move. Neither her father nor her government had any idea how deadly she had become.

And soon, she would be beyond their reach.

Six months into the voyage aboard the Gliese

Mei knelt in front of the open panel, her fingers deftly running along the smooth wiring as she ran her final diagnostic. It was a routine check, one she had done countless times before. The hum of the ship was steady, a comforting rhythm she had grown used to over the last six months.

She reached inside to adjust the connector when—an ugly, distorted face lunged at her from the dark recesses of the panel and skidded across the floor.

Mei let out a startled scream, her instincts kicking in as she rolled onto her back, heart pounding. Her first thought was intruder . Her second thought was kill . But before she could react, a familiar sound reached her ears—deep, throaty laughter.

Her breath steadied.

Sergi.

Mei tilted her head back, still sprawled on the floor, and glared at the doorway. There, with a smug grin on his face, stood Sergi Lazaroff, doing what could only be described as an awkward victory jig.

The papier-maché monstrosity dangled in his hand, its exaggerated features hideous in the bright light.

Mei exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “You’re a dead man, Lazaroff.”

Sergi’s laughter deepened. “Worth it.”

He saw the moment she shifted onto her feet, the movement fluid and full of unspoken promise. His grin widened—then he bolted.

Mei took off after him, her voice sharp with mock fury. “You are an absolute menace! I swear I’m going to eject you with the waste!”

Sergi’s laughter echoed through the corridors of the Gliese as he sprinted ahead, dodging low-hanging pipes and swinging around corners with practiced ease. Mei was right on his heels, her irritation only growing as she heard Julia’s chuckle from the comms station.

“Ten credits says she catches him in under two minutes,” Julia called.

“Five says she’ll draw it out just to make him suffer,” Ash countered, already pushing off from his seat.

Josh sighed, setting down his tablet. “What now ?”

Ash clapped him on the back. “Come on, it’s about to get interesting.”

By the time Sergi skidded into the galley, he was wheezing with laughter. He turned, arms raised in surrender, but his grin never wavered. Mei lunged, ready to tackle him?—

Only for his hands to settle on her shoulders, gently guiding her around.

Mei’s breath caught as she saw the table.

A small, slightly misshapen cake sat in the center, a single papier-maché candle standing upright on top. Julia, Ash, and Josh stood nearby, their grins bright as they began singing Happy Birthday in off-key harmony.

Mei froze.

The threats she had been preparing died on her lips.

Sergi leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “Gotcha, pandochka .” His voice was soft, teasing, but beneath it, there was something deeper.

Mei blinked hard, willing the sudden moisture in her eyes to disappear. She wasn’t the type to cry. Tears were a waste of energy.

But as she looked at the surrounding faces—their laughter, their joy for her—something inside her softened. They weren’t just crewmates.

They were her people.

Her family.

Mei exhaled and leaned back against Sergi for the briefest moment before he let her go, giving her space. She turned, locking eyes with him. He knew. He understood. And in his gaze, she saw acceptance—no expectations, no demands. Just someone who saw her.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

Julia held out a neatly wrapped package. “It’s not much, but?—”

Mei took it with steady hands. “It’s perfect.”

Ash eyed the cake. “So, uh… we can have more than one piece, right?”

Josh chuckled. “That’s up to the birthday girl.”

Mei gave them all a slow, assessing look. Then she picked up a knife, cut the barest sliver, and handed it to Sergi with a cheeky grin, laughing at his disgruntled expression before she added more.

“I knew you loved me,” he said with a pleased expression at the chunk of cake now on his plate.

She snorted out a rare, inelegant laugh and shook her head. “Don’t get too comfortable, Lazaroff. There will be payback. I promise. There will be some serious payback.”

His laughter was warm, real. “I’d expect nothing less, pandochka .”

Mei breathed out as a rare emotion threatened to choke her, and glanced at the others. Their faces were filled with laughter and light. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel alone.

It truly is a happy birthday, māma.