Night settled quietly over the western edge of Arbora Forest. In a small border village—home to those who once fled Edena's reach—peace finally returned after years of fear.
Then the sky tore open.
A streak of bright blue light cut across the darkness, too fast, too focused to be a falling star. Villagers froze where they stood. Among them was Aiden, a young hunter whose courage often outran his caution. He stood at the edge of a field, eyes wide.
"That's not a star," he murmured.
Before doubt could catch him, he grabbed his bow and lantern and sprinted toward the disappearing trail of light.
By the time he reached the forest, the earth had already answered the sky. A massive crater carved the ground, still steaming. At its center, a faint blue glow pulsed like a heartbeat.
Aiden exhaled sharply. "What… happened here?"
The crater sat close to an old cave network, one the villagers rarely entered except to gather herbs. Aiden's mind raced. If the impact connected to the caves, whatever fell might have rolled inside.
He hurried to the entrance. Cold air greeted him as he stepped into the dark, but he knew these tunnels well. Lantern held high, he followed the thin blue light that trailed deeper underground.
Minutes passed before the narrow passage opened into a cavern he had never seen before. The impact had cracked the earth wide. Massive tree roots hung from above, glowing with the same blue radiance, their light reflecting off the stone walls in shifting patterns.
And in the center stood a silver capsule.
Its surface was smooth, almost seamless, etched with geometric lines of blue light. A strange fluid leaked from its joints and seeped into the roots, making them pulse brighter.
Aiden approached, each step slow and heavy. The cavern hummed with an unfamiliar mechanical rhythm, like a machine breathing.
As he reached the capsule, the glow intensified. A soft click echoed. Then the front panel slid open with a hiss, releasing a burst of white light.
He flinched, raising an arm to shield his eyes.
When the light faded, he dared to look.
And froze.
Inside the capsule lay a tiny infant wrapped in a white blanket, sleeping as peacefully as if none of this were extraordinary at all.
"What… are you?" Aiden breathed.
The child's face glowed faintly, its skin pale and almost luminous. A warmth spread across Aiden's chest—a strange, instinctive feeling he couldn't explain.
He stepped back. This was far beyond any hunter's duty.
"I need the elders," he whispered.
He ran.
The moment he reached the village, he burst into the healers' hall where the elders gathered for their nightly prayers.
"Elders! You need to come with me. Now!"
The healers startled, but Elara—the eldest and calmest among them—approached with steady steps.
"Aiden. Breathe. Tell us what happened."
He gulped air. "Something fell from the sky. A capsule. And inside it… there's a baby."
A ripple of tension spread across the hall. Elara's expression tightened, not with disbelief but recognition of danger.
"Are you certain?" she asked.
"Completely. I can show you. But we need to hurry."
Elara turned to her fellow healers. "Prepare yourselves. We will investigate."
Outside, villagers gathered, whispering, but Elara raised a hand. "Return to your homes. This matter belongs to the healers."
Aiden lifted his lantern again. His hands trembled, whether from fear or adrenaline he couldn't tell.
"Follow me," he said.
And together, they headed back toward the forest—toward the crater, the cavern, and the impossible child waiting beneath the earth.
The cavern glowed with a soft blue radiance. Light pulsed through the roots that had absorbed the capsule's strange liquid, giving the entire chamber an otherworldly shimmer. Aiden stood beside four village healers, their eyes fixed on the sleeping infant inside the silver pod.
Elara stepped forward first. Her sharp gaze lingered on the child, her expression a mix of awe and unease.
"There's no doubt," she said quietly. "This child is Edena."
The words hit harder than the echo of her voice. The healers tensed. Aiden blinked in disbelief.
"Edena? But… it's just a baby. How could it be dangerous?"
Varek, stern as stone, scoffed.
"You don't understand, Aiden. The Edena aren't simply people. They are our enemies. They abandoned Earth, betrayed us, and now they've returned to finish what they started."
Talia, the youngest healer, bit back her frustration.
"This child is innocent, Varek. They didn't choose to be Edena. How can you condemn a newborn?"
"Because it is Edena," Varek replied sharply. "Their technology is beyond anything we can grasp. What looks harmless now may become a weapon later."
Aiden stepped between them.
"How can we decide that without knowing anything? Isn't it our duty to protect those who can't protect themselves?"
"Our duty is to protect the village," Varek shot back. "Bringing an Edena child inside our walls is reckless."
Elara raised a hand, halting the rising argument.
"Enough. We must think clearly. We have no proof this child is a threat… but no proof it is safe either. Bringing it home may bring danger."
Talia stepped forward, eyes unwavering.
"If we abandon this child, we become no better than those who left Earth behind. We must not repeat their cruelty."
Varek let out a cold laugh.
"You speak of morality, Talia. But if this child brings disaster, will you take responsibility? Will you risk the entire village for one life?"
Elara looked torn, her gaze flicking between her healers and the glowing roots surrounding the pod.
"This child is Edena. That much is true. We don't know why it was sent here… but the child didn't choose any of this."
Silence settled. Aiden felt the weight of something much larger than any of them pressing in on the room.
"Elara," he said softly, "this child needs us. Whatever the risk, we should give it a chance."
Elara studied him for a long moment. Then she exhaled slowly.
"What is your decision, all of you?"
Varek didn't hesitate.
"We leave it here. Let the wild decide its fate."
Talia's response was immediate.
"That isn't nature's will. That's us choosing to let it die."
"Better that than risking our people's lives," Varek said, unyielding.
"Enough." Elara's voice cut through the cavern. Her decision hardened in her expression.
"We leave the child here. This place remains a secret. No one in the village must know."
Talia stepped forward to protest, but Elara silenced her with a raised hand.
"The decision is final."
With heavy footsteps, the group turned to leave. Aiden followed, but Talia grabbed his arm before he reached the exit.
"Aiden," she whispered urgently, "you have to save that child."
He froze. "But the elders already—"
"Please," Talia insisted. "I'll prepare a place for it. There's an old house at the village's edge, no one goes there anymore. No one has to know. But that baby cannot be left here to die."
Aiden looked into her pleading eyes. His heart pounded with doubt and conviction. After a long, tense moment, he nodded.
"All right. I'll do it."
That night, after the others had returned to the village, Aiden slipped back into the cave. He lifted the baby carefully from the capsule. The infant didn't stir, its faint glow casting gentle light on Aiden's trembling hands.
Wrapped in a soft cloth, the child felt impossibly small.
Aiden stepped out into the forest, moving through the shadows with measured steps. The baby rested peacefully in his arms, unaware that its fate now depended on the courage of a single boy.
The ancient trees whispered as he passed.
And though fear twisted in his chest, Aiden knew—without question—that this was the right choice.
*****
At the edge of the village, an old house stood alone in an empty field, sheltered beneath the shadows of towering trees. It had once belonged to a family long gone, and time had swallowed whatever warmth it used to hold. The wooden door groaned softly as Aiden pushed it open, revealing a cold and dust-layered interior.
Talia was already inside. She had brought a few supplies and hung a dim lantern on the wall. When she saw Aiden enter with the child, her expression softened.
"You brought her," she said, relief flooding her voice.
Aiden nodded and gently laid the baby on the small bed Talia had prepared. "What now?"
"We care for her here," Talia said as she checked the baby's breathing. "Only the two of us can know. If this gets out... I don't want to imagine what the village will do."
Aiden swallowed hard. "The elders will grow suspicious. They're not fools. If they find out we ignored their order, exile would be the best outcome."
Talia let out a breath she'd been holding. "I know the risk. But I can't live with abandoning her. She didn't choose to be born Edenan."
Aiden looked at the baby again. There was something about her he couldn't quite name. Not just the faint glow to her skin, but a quiet presence that made it difficult to look away.
"Alright," he said at last. "I'll help. But we need to be careful. Extremely careful."
Talia nodded. "No one can know. And we don't know how long we'll have before something... changes."
Days passed. Village life moved on normally. Varek and the other elders seemed satisfied that their command had been obeyed. Yet in the abandoned house, Aiden and Talia spent their days caring for the child in secret.
"She eats more than I expected," Talia said with a tired smile, watching the baby wrap her tiny fingers around the bottle.
Aiden sat near the window with his bow across his lap, keeping watch. "She's stronger every day. But I can't shake the feeling we won't be able to hide her forever."
Talia turned serious. "We protect her for as long as we can. No matter what happens."
Aiden didn't respond, but the worry in his eyes said enough.
His fears proved true sooner than either of them expected. One night, while Aiden kept watch outside, he spotted a faint light weaving between the trees. Someone was coming.
"Someone's approaching," he whispered as he slipped back inside.
Talia immediately extinguished the lantern and carried the baby to the darkest corner of the room. They waited in silence. The footsteps grew closer.
A knock sounded at the door.
Aiden opened it slowly. And there she stood.
"Elara?" he whispered.
The healer elder stepped inside without waiting. Her face was stern, but something unreadable lingered in her eyes. Her gaze shifted toward Talia, who was trying—and failing—to hide the baby.
"You think I wouldn't notice?" Elara asked quietly, though her voice carried iron. "You brought the child here."
Talia stiffened. "Elara, we—"
Aiden cut in, desperate. "We couldn't leave her there. We just couldn't."
Elara walked past them and approached the sleeping baby. She looked down at her for a long moment, the silence heavy.
"You know this goes against our decision," she said. "If the others find out, the two of you will be cast out."
"But she's innocent," Talia said, her voice trembling. "How could we abandon her? You know it's wrong, Elara. You know it."
Elara let out a slow, weary sigh. Her eyes stayed fixed on the child.
"I know. But this isn't only about what is right. If the Edenans discover we're hiding one of their own... the consequences could be far worse than exile."
Aiden stepped forward. "We'll keep her safe. No one else needs to know."
For a moment, Elara didn't speak. Then she nodded, once, reluctantly.
"Very well. But understand this: you will bear the responsibility for whatever comes."
She walked to the door and paused.
"I'll look the other way. Just this once. But you're treading on a razor's edge."
When she left, the house fell silent. Aiden and Talia exchanged uncertain glances—relieved yet shaken.
The baby slept, peaceful and unaware.
But the quiet house seemed to hum with tension.
Her arrival had already begun to change everything.
*****
The night sky wrapped the small village of Ravara in a warm, quiet darkness. Yellow lanterns glowed along the streets, casting soft halos of light over the crowd gathered at the main gate. Hope and relief shimmered in their eyes as they waited for their hero to return.
When Kirana stepped through the gate, the villagers erupted in joy. Smiles, laughter, and tears greeted her all at once. People hurried toward her, offering flowers, food, and tight embraces.
An elderly woman approached her slowly. Nira, a distant relative of Kirana's mother, pulled her into a trembling hug.
"Kirana, you've brought great honor to us," she whispered. "But losing your mother and Raka... it's a wound we all feel. Still, we're so proud of you."
Kirana returned the embrace, her voice soft but steady. "Thank you, Nira. I couldn't have done any of this without all of you. Your prayers kept me standing."
More villagers gathered around, each offering their gratitude and condolences. Despite the exhaustion on her face, Kirana met everyone with a warm smile, answering with sincerity that came straight from her heart.
The next morning, Kirana stood alone before three gravestones. The field was quiet, touched by early dawn. Dew coated the grass, glimmering around the stone markers.
She rested her hand on each one. Her father. Her mother. And Raka.
"Mother, Father, Raka," she whispered, her voice raw. "I did what I had to do. The Edenans are gone... but losing you left a hole I don't know how to fill. I don't know how to move forward without you."
Tears slipped down her cheeks. She knelt, bowing her head as if reaching for strength from the memories buried beneath the earth.
Soft footsteps approached behind her.
"Kirana," Lyra said gently.
Kirana turned, quickly wiping her tears. "Lyra... I just needed a little time with them. I hope I didn't keep you waiting."
Lyra came to her side and knelt down. Her voice was calm, steady. "You don't need to apologize. I know how heavy grief can be. I can't imagine how you've carried all this for so long."
Kirana looked into her eyes, her own filled with pain. "I don't feel strong, Lyra. Every step feels heavier than the last. I just hope... I hope they'd be proud of me."
Lyra gave her a soft, genuine smile. "You haven't just made them proud, Kirana. You've made the world thankful you're still here."
They sat together in silence as the morning wind whispered through the grass, carrying their grief, hope, and quiet resolve into the open sky.