The sun hung at its apex, its golden rays struggling to pierce through the wispy canopy of the feather tree above. Beneath its soft, feathery leaves, Gira stirred. The gentle warmth of sunlight danced across his skin as he shifted in his seat, sluggish from sleep.
A dry sensation prickled at the inside of his mouth. Something was stuck on his tongue. He grimaced, instinctively reaching up to pull a stray strand from between his lips.
“Eugh…” he grumbled, flicking the offending hair away.
As he moved, a slight warmth left his side. His drowsy mind barely registered it until he turned his head—only to find Mera nestled against his shoulder, her quiet breaths even and undisturbed. Her arms were still wrapped around a messy assortment of snacks.
Gira found himself studying the weary young girl beside him, now fast asleep against his shoulder. Her long, black, wavy hair cascaded over her face, shifting slightly with each slow breath. Yet, as the sunlight filtered through the feathery canopy, a subtle pink shimmer flickered across her strands, catching his eye.
Most of her face was hidden beneath the loose curtain of her bangs, but curiosity tugged at him. He leaned forward for a better look. She was undeniably pretty, but it was the odd quirk of her sleeping expression that soothed him most—a faint, upturned smile, as if she were tasting something both sweet and sour in her dreams.
After the wash of harrowing emotions from Savagrios, Gira found himself happy to find Mera by his side. He leaned back in silence, taking in the sound of distant waves and the beautiful sight of the wispy cotton leaves of the feather tree that danced around. He felt the lingering dread loosen its grip, fading like a receding tide. He closed his eyes once more, letting himself sink into the moment, unwilling to let it slip away just yet.
The waves lulled back and forth from an unseen shoreline.
The soothing calls of unknown seabirds cooing against the warm breeze.
The muffled rustling of the feather tree.
The faint warmth of human connection to his side.
The Morray Squad had arrived at their destination—Môry’Plu, the largest coastal city of the Ordovis coast, where the sea brushed against old curved rock. A picturesque place riddled with bays and coves, decorated in the beautiful sprouts of featherwood trees. Their fluffy white leaves floating lazily across the vistas and hills, like cotton balls on a celestial painting.
The architecture of Môry’Plu was flawless and pristine, yet marred by the passing whims of the Servinae—a people who had unfortunately outlived their steel gods. They were by all means human—phenotypically, at least—but only in a vaguely technical sense. The age of the ENN.KORR had faded into a horrific fiery echo yet the Servinae endured, lingering in the afterglow of a bygone verse.
Most of the Ordovis coast was riddled with these bored souls, from Orion to Cocoloska, a people untethered from the passage of time. For many years before and after the Shattering, they had drifted through existence devoid of struggle or any real desire for change. Incessantly fed by the ENN.KORR’s rusted remains, sustained but never satiated. To have lost their appetite for life yet deny death—how odd the Servinae are.
The land around them reflected their apathy. Strange, half-finished monuments loomed over pristine plazas, structures built on whims and abandoned just as quickly. Bridges led nowhere, spirals of golden filigree twisted toward the sky, colossal statues stood unfinished, their forms locked in a state of incompletion. Nature crept in hesitantly, weaving its way through empty corridors, unsure whether to reclaim what had never truly been lost.
Môry’Plu, the Living Graveyard, was for the time being, now Gira’s home too.
“Wakey wakey, ya sickly crimson eejit!” A deep yet sharp voice lashed at Gira, snapping him out of his half-asleep stupor.
Mera also finally woke up, blinking groggily as she slowly pulled herself off Gira. She took a moment to scan her surroundings—until her eyes met his.
For a brief second, they just stared at each other as the sound of distant waves crashing lulled in the background.
Then, in an instant, her face flared red and with surprising dexterity, she jumped away like a startled cat, still clutching the snacks in a death grip.
“S-s-sorry!” she stammered, her voice cracking as she fumbled with the bags. In her panic, she dropped them onto the lowglider’s deck before bolting toward a pristine white stone building that was perched on a cliffside overlooking the ocean below.
Gira watched her disappear into the cubic structure before the angry-sounding voice caused him to recoil with how loud it was.
“Ah, go on, get up, ya Curseblooded feck, I’ve got me own shite to be at!”
Gira looked around confused, unable to find the source of the voice.
“I’m down here, ya great blind gaurret!” the voice called out, turning Gira’s gaze down to the lowglider’s floor.
There standing was a small, miniature Hollow, its little serpentine frame standing tall as it pointed at Gira. “I’ve me claws full cleanin’ this damn lowglider, and ye lot were nappin’ right on me workspace!” it cried.
Gira’s eyes lit up, and he absentmindedly grabbed the little Hollow and raised it in the air. “Wow! You’re a talkative little thing, aren’t you! My name’s Gira! What’s yours?”
The little Hollow’s ear twitched and without a word, its little mechanical jaws unhinged, spraying Gira in the eyes with dust.
“AGGHH!” Gira shouted as he dropped the little Hollow as he clawed at his eyes, “WHY?!”
“Don’t go thinkin’ ye can hoist me about just ‘cause I’m not built like a feckin’ dragon, ya big crimson-clown! Now, get off!” The little Hollow commanded as it poked Gira on the shins as he tried his best to escape the little mechanoid.
Tumbling out of the lowglider, Gira found himself face-first on the side of a white gravel road that led towards the fancy white building.
“Ugh…” he grumbled as he got up, brushing himself off.
Standing up, he looked around, taking in the beautiful fluffy white hillsides of the Ordovis Coast. The landscape was ethereal. With a warm breeze carrying thousands of fluffy, white, feather-like leaves, the landscape was filled with a mesmerizing, magical feel. Gira walked away from the lowglider taking a deep breath as the salty sea breeze filled his lungs as the warm light of the sun danced on his skin.
Savagrios? He called out into his mind. But there was nothing. K? Nothing. S? Nothing again. He was alone. Alone to enjoy this peaceful momme—
“Will ya get off the road, ye daft hoor? Master Morray and the rest o’ them bastards are loungin’ up at the mansion.” The little Hollow impatiently screeched at Gira from the lowglider.
“Fine! Sheesh.” Gira grumbled as he was immediately interrupted.
“Hurry it up, will ya!” the little mechanoid hissed, then—whack!—flung a snack bar straight at Gira’s head.
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Gira flinched. “Hey! I was go—oh, what’s this?” He bent down, picking up the snack bar. " 'Kale Bar'? What the hell is kale?"
Before he could finish, another snack bar smacked him square in the forehead.
“Hey! You little—" Thud! Another hit, this time right between the eyes.
“Oh, come on!” he snapped, shielding his face just as the third bar sailed toward him.
Snatching up the scattered snacks, Gira turned on his heel and bolted toward the alabaster manor, muttering under his breath as the little mechanoid cackled triumphantly from the lowglider. “AHAHA! Go on, ya DAFT Curse-blood!”
Gira arrived at the huge stone door of the big alabaster building. Despite the rather rustic appearance of the building, as Gira approached, he noticed the control panel on the right side of the door. It was crafted of the same white stone but there was a small screen. Raising a brow, he looked around before clicking all the buttons. Until the small screen flashed on, a voice erupted from the panel.
“Stop it!” A clearly synthetic voice erupted from the panel. “Oh, its the new guest!” the voice suddenly switched from annoyed to friendly. “The door should be open, kid.”
“Who are you?” Gira asked.
“I’m Kermot, one of the Hollow’s tasked with protecting the estate. I will be meeting you near the entrance to guide you to Master Morray.” It explained before abruptly cutting the connection.
“Oh, uh…” hmmm, all these Hollows are real excited to move around. Gira mused as he pushed the stone door with surprising ease as he slithered into the courtyard of the alabaster manor.
“Ah.” There’s more building?
He found himself standing in a pristine garden, where water canals wove like silver veins through the landscape, their steady flow breaking the unnatural silence. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp stone and distant flowers. The entire space was enclosed by a cobblestone path, shaded by elegant white-stone roofing that cast soft, angular shadows along the walkway.
A bridge lay ahead, arching over one of the waterways, its smooth surface untouched by time. As Gira moved forward, he peered down into the flowing canal below—mossy growths clung to the edges like delicate green lace, while small, colorful fish bounced through the currents, darting and tumbling as if playing in the water’s restless dance.
Gira was mesmerized by the water, his eyes watching the fish swim peacefully, when his ears suddenly perked up as the sound of steel grinding against rock echoed from the other side of the garden. Following his ears, he found himself staring at a Hollow. It was painted white with suspiciously familiar red lines painted on the shells of its snout.
It closed the gap between itself and Gira almost instantly. “The squad is having lunch in the dining hall. Follow me.”
“Lunch? Like food?” Gira asked; his expression lit up.
“Yes. Now keep up.” Kermot said as it slithered to the other side, carefully following the path and avoiding the fancy flowers and trees.
Gira excitedly followed the Hollow as they passed through huge white halls adorned with all sorts of colorful tapestries illuminated by the massive windows that lined the ceiling.
They wove through sprawling lounging areas, each one filled with an eclectic mix of oddities—unfamiliar skeletons posed in animalistic displays, paintings that seemed alive under the light, and statues mid-motion as if frozen amidst battle. The air carried the faint scent of polished stone, aged parchment, and something vaguely floral.
Plants were everywhere—thriving in glass enclosures, twisting inside ornate vivariums, or suspended in massive aquariums brimming with fish. Gira wanted to stop and inspect them, but the Hollow impatiently hurried through the halls.
They descended a wide stone staircase, the steps subtly curved from years of use, leading into a massive open chamber where a colossal predatory skeleton loomed at the center. Its long-dead form stretched toward the ceiling, bones smoothed with time, encircled by a shimmering waterway and rows of seating. Whatever creature it had been, its form was most imposing as it watched over the alabaster room. Frozen in death, it itched at Gira’s desire to ask questions, but the Hollow had already twisted down another hallway.
The building was deceptively huge as they turned and went deeper down until they finally stopped in an area that housed another open chamber. At its heart, a kitchen stood at the center, open on all sides like a stage, its polished surfaces gleaming under the ambient glow of massive windows that looked out into the coastal landscape. The air carried the rich aroma of something simmering, a blend of unfamiliar spices and slow-roasted heat.
There, working with meticulous precision, was a spider-like mechanoid unlike any Gira had ever seen. It moved fluidly, tending to the kitchenware with an almost deliberate grace, its metal hands deftly stirring, slicing, and adjusting simmering pots with the care of an artisan rather than a mere machine.
“They’re eating outside today.” Kermot said, before turning to slither back up the stairs.
“Thanks!” Gira called out as Kermot disappeared into the floor above. Zoom zoom zoom—there he goes…
Shaking his head, Gira turned toward the massive window and peered outside. Beyond the glass, a gathering of around twenty people lounged on the coastal terrace, plates in hand, their conversations nothing more than a distant murmur. He recognized a few familiar faces, but among them were plenty of new people.
His stomach grumbled as he floated over to the kitchen, his mouth watering when—
“Gira!”
Morray’s voice echoed throughout, interrupting his slow walk towards the food.
Gira flinched. “Oh, hello…Um, I was—”
“Join us on the terrace,” Morray said as he walked over to Gira. “Let me formally introduce you to the rest of the squad.”
“Yeah. But could I—”
Before Gira could even finish, Morray grabbed him by the arm, effortlessly dragging him away from the sweet smell of food and out onto the breezy terrace overlooking the vast, shimmering ocean.
Agony…
Gira cast one last, longing glance at the kitchen before the bright outside light overwhelmed him as he was spun around by Morray.
“Attention everyone. I’m formally introducing a new member to the Voltasaxx Squad!” Morray declared, his voice carrying effortlessly across the table lined with food and people. “This here is Gira—the infamous Coarseblood of Trant Station and your new squadmate!”
He glanced down at Gira, expecting some kind of reaction—only to find him salivating, his eyes glazed over, locked onto the feast before him.
Morray sighed. “Go on, introduce yourself.” He gave Gira a firm tap on the shoulder, trying to snap him out of his food-induced trance.
“Uhh…” Gira mumbled as he reached out for a biscuit.
The rangers sat in awkward silence, exchanging uncertain glances as Morray felt the faint stab of embarrassment. Gira, completely oblivious, popped the biscuit into his mouth, swallowing it in a single bite.
His face melted into sweet satisfaction as he snapped back down, reaching for some of the other food, which he seemed to swallow like a snake, the food disappearing into his mouth as the rangers watched in confusion.
Gira finally paused, swallowing as his brain seemed to click back into place. “Oh yeah… What were you saying?”
Morray sighed, rubbing his temple. “Introduce yourself, please…” he mumbled.
Gira straightened up with a big smile. “Right-o, hello fellow people. I am Gira. I am hungry. Nice to meet you!” finishing off his brief introduction with a thumbs up, he broke away from Morray and scrambled back into the building on his quest for food. Leaving the rangers in awkward silence.
“He’s an idiot—but he’s strong, I promise!” Serfet suddenly exclaimed, breaking the silence.
“He’s actually kind of scary…” Romm mumbled.
“That lil’ boy is scary to ya, Romm? By the 15, that skinny little twit won’t last a day ‘ere!” A bearded ranger in a coral-colored shirt laughed.
A deep booming voice cut in, “Borren, you know that ‘skinny little twit’ dominated Morray’s Kyyr last night!? ”
“He wot?” Borren asked in disbelief. “I don’t believe that fer a second!”
As the rangers bickered outside, Gira hurried to the kitchen counter—only to find it towering over him. His spiky hair barely peeked over the edge, like a shark’s fin skimming the ocean’s surface.
“Hello? Mr. Food machine! Can I have food?” Gira asked.
With a sudden hiss, the counter sank lower, unveiling more of the kitchen beyond. The multi-armed mechanoid adjusted slightly, one of its arms swiveling toward Gira while the others continued their seamless work in the background.
“What’s your order, sweetie?” the arm asked in a sweet, feminine voice.
“Order?” Gira repeated, “What’s that?”
The arm twisted as if confused, “What would you like to eat?” It reworded the question.
“Ohh, anything that’s yummy!” Gira exclaimed.
The arm got closer, inspecting the smiling Gira. “Very well, chef’s choice!” It said as the counter returned back to place. “Your food will be ready shortly; standby for collection~”
Gira stepped back; looking around, he spotted a table with a few chairs nearby. Without hesitation, he strode over, grabbing one by the back and spinning it around before dropping into the seat, arms folded over the chair’s backrest.
He leaned forward, eyes fixed on the mechanoid, watching intently as it worked with precise, fluid motions. He sat there excited, wondering what kind of dish it was preparing.