Pat'ul led the group with Luna glued to her side. The heat radiating from her mother's body was enough to keep her silent, and she didn't dare lag behind. She kept her hand on Gorchid' s side, making sure he stayed put this time. They soon reached a bridge that loomed above the horizon, a vast green structure stretching across the river like a spine of steel and rust. Its intricate framework gleamed faintly in the dying light, a design so complex even the builders of Akrinn would have struggled to match it. The bridge groaned beneath the wind, every creak echoing through the valley like a warning.
"The Astoria bridge," Pat'ul muttered. Atreus stared at it, his face paling. The once-green beams had faded to rust, the lower frame riddled with holes that revealed the rapids below.
He gulped. "We're crossing…that? Why." he asked, his words tinged with regret. He'd rather face a dozen abominations than face the wind-swayed steel ahead.
"Because that's where our camp is," Luna said. She pointed toward the city beyond—a patchwork of crumbling towers and glimmering fires along the coast. "Astoria's just across it."
Tara chuckled "You're not afraid of heights are you Atreus?" she said teasingly.
He shot back his cheeks burning red. "No, I'm afraid of shoddy earthborn architecture, that thing is a death-trap."
Pat'ul glanced at the children. They were clearly privileged—their words, their posture, even the way they feared the bridge all revealed it. She wondered what her daughter saw in them, what made her call them friends.
"Are you kids coming or not?" she said, her tone sharp with impatience. "If we wait too long, dinner'll be gone and we'll all eat nothing."
Dimitri sighed. "Yeah we'll trail behind you" he said "you'll be our guide to cross safely"
Pat'ul nodded and continued towards the imposing bridge.
After traveling nearly three-quarters of the bridge, Atreus and Dimitri lagged behind, lowering their voices so the others wouldn't hear them argue.
From farther ahead, Tara walked beside Luna, Pat'ul and Gorchid, the wind tugging at her cloak. She frowned. Kindred groups were supposed to move as one—extensions of a single will. But lately, her extensions were always bickering.
"There should be baskets full of blueberries waiting at camp," Luna said, catching the edge of Tara's sour mood.
"Really?" Tara replied, half-hearted. "Maybe I'll just have that for dinner then." Her gaze stayed fixed on the boys behind them.
"I'll see what I can do," Luna said with a soft smile. She followed the hooded girl's eyes toward the arguing pair. "Do they fight like that all the time?"
"No," Tara said flatly. "Only since we made your acquaintance."
Luna's voice fell to a somber whisper "Oh."
Gorchid kept gnawing at Tara's cloak, the Tow-bull couldn't resist the aroma of manea behind it. Tara tried her best to ignore him but it became increasingly difficult.
"Why does your…pet insist on pestering me?" She said, annoyed.
Pat'ul, who had clearly been listening, cut in before Luna could answer. "It's your Korral," she said matter-of-factly. "Bulls like Gorchid are bred to sniff out Manea-rich places—dead cities, hidden springs, any bit of ground the Expulsion forgot."
Tara's eyes widened, "you know of the expulsion?!" she said shocked at the earthborn knowledge.
"Why wouldn't I" Pat'ul answered. "We're the ones who have to live in the ruin it left behind"
Guilt flickered across Tara's eyes, but before she could speak, Pat'ul's voice hardened. "Don't pity me Moonie. I've been to Akrinn—New Gaea, in particular." She met Tara's gaze, her tone sharp as rusted steel. "I'd take the Oldlands any day."
Those words hit Tara like a brick. She'd heard of New Gaea—where the Unendowed toiled in the Korral mines, their lives traded for a few glimmers of Korral. It was a hard place, one of the darker corners of Akrinn she preferred to pretend didn't exist. But if this woman had truly been there… It made everything more complicated.
Her gaze drifted to the woman's burn mark—deep, spiraling down to her fingers like a story carved in flesh. It stirred another question before she could stop herself.
"Did you work there?" Tara asked, her voice soft but threaded with curiosity.
Pat'ul froze. The question cut deeper than Tara could know. Her pulse quickened, and for a brief second her eyes darted away from the Moonie's hooded gaze. "No," she said finally, forcing calm into her voice. "I only visited—a-as a merchant."
Luna noticed her mother's change instantly—the stiffness in her shoulders, the chill that always followed whenever Akrinn was mentioned. Tara had drawn more from Pat'ul in a few short moments than Luna had managed in her entire life. She'd always suspected her mother had been there—the way she avoided the topic hinted at familiarity—but now, Luna knew for sure.
"Are you alright, Mother?" she asked softly, stepping closer. She could tell how much the question had shaken her, and though part of her longed to know more, another part knew it would only hurt to ask.
Pat'ul snapped out of her stupor the sound of her daughter's voice brought her back to earth, the sadness in her eyes vanishing in an instant.
"I am okay Luna, just…old memories i'd rather not trudge up"
"My apologies I didn't mean to summon any solemn memories, I often ask questions without thinking." Tara said sincerely.
Pat'ul gave her a small smile "Luna is the same"
They reached the village. A crooked, hand-built sign stood at the entrance, its mismatched letters spelling Astoria. Each one had been scavenged from a different age metal, plastic, neon and yet together they fit perfectly with the rest of the town.
The buildings were small, forged from repurposed brick and rusted sheet metal. There was no uniformity here; no two homes looked alike.
Dozens of people filled the narrow streets. Some dressed like Luna and Pat'ul, wrapped in furs and beads, marked by the patterns of their tribes. But they stood out immediately. Most others wore scavenged tech and sported at least one cybernetic limb. These weren't Oldlanders. They were a newer breed of Earth's people. Scavvers, merchants, and wanderers who had turned survival into industry.
Behind it all loomed the skeleton of Old Astoria, its skyscrapers jutting into the gray sky like broken teeth a grim reminder of what humanity used to be.
Pat'ul despised this place. She couldn't wait for the tribe to return to the wilderness, far from the noise and rot of "city life."
Luna, however, was enthralled. People with metal arms and legs, making a living from ruins she couldn't imagine living that way, but she couldn't look away either.
The three moonies adjusted their purses at the mere sight of the city. Digging their Korral deep into their cloaks. Even one full nodule would draw the wrong kind of attention here—three could start a riot.
"You might want to hide that better," Dimitri said, nodding toward the faint glow bleeding through Luna's cloak.
"Oh—right, good call." She unclipped the Korral and buried it deep inside the saddlebag resting on Gorchid's flank. The light vanished behind the thick leather.
"There. Better?" she asked.
Dimitri nodded. "Perfect… as long as you don't lose him again." He smirked.
Luna punched his shoulder, earning a playful wince as he clutched it dramatically.
Pat'ul's attention had already shifted. Her eyes locked on a small campsite near the village's edge—tents built for mobility rather than comfort. Any Oldlander could recognize them instantly.
"There," she said, pointing toward the cluster of shelters. "That's us."
She started toward the camp, her steps brisk and purposeful. The others followed, both Atreus and Dimitri now sticking just as close to Pat'ul as Luna was.
As they moved through the village, their silver robes caught the lantern light, scattering it like shards of glass. Conversation died. Every scavver and Oldlander turned to stare. The entire place fell flat. Every eye fixed on them piercing through their garb as if waiting for the signal to pounce.
"I think we should hurry to your camp," Dimitri muttered to Pat'ul, his eyes darting over the crowd.
Before she could answer, a loud, all-too-familiar voice rang out behind them.
"We hail from Olympus—Phenta's sacred domain!" Atreus declared, his tone swelling with misplaced pride. "We mean you no harm! We're simply here to… bask in your glorious culture, leave us be and there will be no trouble!"
The words hung in the air like a spark over dry grass.
Luna's stomach dropped. She wanted to disappear and fade into the dust beneath her boots. Around them, the villagers froze, their eyes wide before twisting into amused disbelief.
Pat'ul's glare could have scorched the silver right off Atreus's cloak. Her face burned red as the entire village erupted in laughter. Atreus's warning crumbled beneath a chorus of mocking chuckles.
Luna winced at the sound. Each laugh felt like it landed on her. She caught a few familiar faces in the crowd: neighbors, traders, and people who'd known her since she was a child, now watching in open ridicule.
A sharp thwack followed. Tara's hand struck the back of his head—hard and deliberate.
"Ow!" he yelped, clutching the spot.
"Idiot," she muttered.
Pat'ul didn't bother to respond. She turned toward the tents, her movements stiff, her silence louder than any scolding.
Dimitri hurried after her. "I apologize for my friend—"
Pat'ul cut him off, her voice clipped and cold. "You'll eat with us," she said. "Then you'll go back to your moon."
They approached the boundary of the Oldlander camp on the edge of the village. Unlike the rest of Astoria, only Oldlanders moved here—men, women, and children dressed like Luna and Pat'ul, their furs and beads glinting in the firelight.
A pudgy boy spotted Luna first. His eyes went wide before he shouted, voice cracking with excitement.
"Luna! Luna, look everyone—she's back!"
The camp erupted in joy. In moments, people poured from their tents, laughter and cheers filling the air. They surrounded Luna, embracing her, kissing her forehead, tugging her cloak—so relieved they didn't even notice the strangely dressed trio standing just behind her.
"And you brought back Gorchid!" an old woman cried. "Pat'ul, you truly are blessed by the spirits!"
Luna shrank a little. She hadn't chased that stubborn Tow-Bull all the way to Washington just to be forgotten again.
Pat'ul raised a hand to quiet the crowd. "I found my daughter, yes," she said, her tone steady. "But she found Gorchid—and showed bravery in the Oldlands."
Luna's chest swelled at the rare praise. Her mother's next words tempered it, but couldn't erase the warmth.
"Even if that bravery was reckless and risky."
I'll take what I can get, Luna thought, smiling faintly.
"Also, these children helped her on her journey while she was at Washington's Rim," Pat'ul continued. "I invited them to dinner as a way of showing our thanks. Tonight, treat them as you would any other tribe sibling."
Her announcement finally drew the Oldlanders' attention to the otherworldly trio standing behind her their silver cloaks glimmering in the firelight.
The three Moonies just waved; by now, they'd learned that every time they spoke, they only dug the hole deeper.
Silence spread through the camp. The Oldlanders stared, their eyes flicking over the Moonies' spotless robes and unscarred faces. Dimitri, Atreus, and Tara exchanged uneasy glances, stiff under the scrutiny.
Then a voice rose above the quiet, firm and weathered with authority.
"You heard Pat'ul! These children are siblings tonight. Quit gawking and make them feel at home!"
It was the tribe's elder whose cane, carved with runes and Korral shards, marked her station. At her command, the tension dissolved. The camp buzzed back to life, fires rekindling, voices rising again, the smell of smoked meat returning to the air.
Gorchid let out a low grunt, his hooves thudding against the packed earth. A few children rushed up, waving fronds of dried moss toward him. The Tow-Bull snorted, tail flicking, then lumbered toward a wooden pen near the fires. The fence posts there were wrapped in old cords of Korral wire, humming faintly to keep the beasts calm.
"Go on, boy," Luna said softly, patting his flank. The great creature lowered his head, rubbing against her shoulder before plodding inside the pen. Within moments, another handler offered him a trough of water and a bundle of moss to chew.
Pat'ul glanced around the camp, scanning the faces. "Looks like your father's out on a hunt," she said at last. "When he gets back, he'll want to talk to you about your little disappearing act."
Luna's head dropped, guilt prickling her cheeks.
Pat'ul sighed, her tone softening. "I volunteered us to help the girls prepare the meals today. Come on." She nodded toward a circle of women working near the fire pits.
Luna hesitated, glancing back at her friends. They looked completely lost—standing rigid, unsure whether they were allowed to move. She wanted to stay and show them the camp, maybe ease their awkwardness, but her mother had asked for help, and that came first.
Pat'ul caught her glance. "Never mind," she said softly. "Go on—stomp around with your friends. I can help the girls."
"Are you sure?" Luna asked. "I don't mind helping."
"I'm sure," Pat'ul said with a small smile. Then her voice grew firm. "Just don't leave the camp. For any reason. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," Luna replied.
Pat'ul leaned down, kissed her forehead, and disappeared into the heart of the camp.
Luna approached her friends, who were still standing awkwardly in formation like soldiers awaiting orders.
"Soo…" she began, shuffling her feet. "This is my home—for right now, anyway. We move a lot." She paused, her eyes flicking between them. "What do you think?"
Atreus glanced around, taking in the patchwork tents, flickering fires, and wandering children. He nodded slowly.
"It's actually… quaint," he said, his tone surprisingly genuine. "A pleasant surprise, indeed. Do you think it would be alright if I looked around? I promise I won't make a fool of myself again."
Luna blinked at him, puzzled by his formality. "Yeah… sure, I guess," she said.
Atreus gave a short, dramatic bow before strolling off into the camp. Dimitri's eyes followed him, narrowing slightly. Luna noticed the suspicion behind his calm expression.
"I should go after him," Dimitri muttered. "Make sure he doesn't yell at anyone else." He turned to Tara. "Stay with Luna." Then he bolted after Atreus.
"Sure, captain," Tara muttered under her breath, knowing he couldn't hear her.
They stood there in silence for a moment, neither quite sure what to say. Luna glanced around the camp, searching for something that might interest Tara—until her eyes landed on one of the tipis along the dirt path. Her face lit up.
"Hey! I still owe you some berries, don't I?" she said, already waving for Tara to follow as she took off running.
"Wait—what?" Tara called after her, startled. "Luna, slow down!"
But Luna was already halfway there, laughing. Tara groaned and chased after her, her cloak fluttering behind.
When they finally reached the tipi, both girls were breathless.
"I won," Luna panted, hands on her knees.
"Was this a bout?" Tara said, exasperated. "You never mentioned a race."
Luna giggled, pulling open the tipi's flap. A sudden chill spilled out, washing over them. Inside, rows of fruit filled the space—berries, melons, and pomme clusters stacked neatly beside salvaged coolers humming softly in the dim light.
"Incredible…" Tara whispered, stepping inside. Her eyes sparkled, the alchemist in her completely overtaking the reserved soldier.
A young man was sitting on the ground with a mobile alchemy set on his lap. He poured red wine into a pear shaped flask then grinded up sugar, coriander, and cinnamon in a mortar until it resembled colorful dust. He poured the mixture in the flask containing the wine and then sealed it, shaking it a few good times before placing it on a rack among other potions each striking a different color.
"There the libido potion for Joseph is finished." The man said his voice was tired.
Joseph? Luna furrowed, that was her father's name.
"That's for my dad? Gross" she said wishing she'd not heard anything.
The man recoiled not realizing his solitude had ended.
"Luna!? Your back!"
He leapt up from the patch of flattened grass and wrapped her in a crushing hug, his arms squeezing the life out of her.
She tried to respond, but her voice barely escaped her airways. "Yes Uncle Martin…can you let go now"
A moment later, he released her with a laugh.
"What? My niece goes missing and I can't be happy about it?" he said feigning offence.
"Be happy," Luna muttered, straightening her ruffled clothes, "just don't squeeze me to death."
Martin chuckled, then his gaze drifted to the hooded girl standing nearby, still fixated on the shelves of ingredients.
"And who might this be?" he asked, inviting anyone to answer.
"I'm Tara Lumenier," she said at once, her voice bubbling with excitement. "This is the most effective alchemy lab I've ever seen." She pointed towards one of the coolers in the corner of the room. "Is Korral used to produce the frost emissions?"
"No no" Martin replied. "It's a wiring system I rigged myself, circuitry at its finest. Not as powerful as Korral, but far cheaper and it gets the job done."
Tara's eyes darted to the rows of fruit next. She pulled a small notebook and quill from beneath her cloak, questions spilling out as fast as she could think of them.
"And your organization of ingredients?" she asked eagerly "I assume you sort by types—pommes, berries, and melons—"
Martin grinned and moved beside her, gesturing toward the shelves. "I sort by purpose," he said with pride. "Taste, poison, inebriation, alleviation, and so on. When making potions, what matters most is purpose above all else." He paused, studying her expression. "But you probably know that already. You Moonies are well versed in alchemy, aren't you?"
Tara excitement faltered. She was an outsider here, when surrounded by alchemy it was easy for her to forget.
"Well, yes," she said after a pause, "but… academy curriculums can be rather rigid, to say the least. It's nice to see how an actual lab functions."
Martin smiled and turned to Luna. "See? This is how you were supposed to respond when I asked if you wanted to learn potion brewing," he sighed. "But you're too much like my brother—you'd rather jump in front of a charging bear than mix concoctions."
Luna rolled her eyes. "I actually came here to ask you a favor," she said with a mischievous grin.
Martin squinted. "What is it?"
"Can we borrow about… forty blueberries?" she asked sweetly.
"Forty!?" He burst out laughing. "What on Earth do you need forty blueberries for?"
"They're not for me—they're for her, your new favorite," Luna said, gesturing to Tara. "Besides, I'll tell Mom it was your idea for me to go after Gorchid."
Martin swallowed. "I said do what's right for you—and not always your parents, not run away overnight!" He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fine. You can have twenty-five blueberries. No more."
He picked up the red libido potion from earlier and waved it teasingly in her face. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to deliver this to your mother—so maybe I'll get another niece who actually likes potions and not blackmail."
Luna grimaced. "Gross."
Martin chuckled and turned to Tara. "It was a pleasure meeting someone who fancies the cauldron," he said warmly, before ducking out of the tipi.
Luna glanced at Tara, who was still staring in awe at the little alchemy lab.
"I never expected to find something this… ingenious on Earth," Tara said with a soft snicker. "They told us you all were… simple."
Luna's expression darkened. "Sorry to disappoint," she muttered, moving toward the blueberries. She counted out exactly twenty-five—Martin checked the supply daily—and handed them to Tara, who slipped them into the satchel tied at her side.
"I suppose it's time I honor our pact," Tara said quietly, her voice edged with nerves. "Just… know this. I'm not dangerous. I'll be the same person, even without the hood."
Luna nodded, her anticipation rising.
Tara drew a slow breath. "Promise me you won't yell," she said. "Humans tend to do that as well."
Luna blinked, confused. Humans? What did she mean by that? Wasn't she one too?
Still, she gave a small nod.
After a long pause, Tara reached up and pulled back her hood.
A cascade of bright red hair spilled free—radiant and soft, glowing in the lantern light. Luna's first thought was how beautiful it was, and how strange that Tara would ever want to hide it.
Then Tara slipped off the cotton mask, and suddenly, it all made sense.
"By the spirits…"