The silence that followed Bai Sha's question was heavy, a pause laden with unspoken truths. Cecil Ronin, Emperor of Ares, did not answer immediately, his face an unreadable mask in the dim glow of his study. The vast chamber, a monument to imperial grandeur, glittered with treasures—golden chalices, ancient tapestries, and relics that whispered of the Empire's storied past. Each object, from the delicate porcelain cup on the desk to the intricately carved jade statuette in the corner, bore the weight of centuries, silent witnesses to the rise and fall of dynasties.
"…Come home first," Cecil said at last, his voice betraying no emotion.
Bai Sha, attuned to the subtleties of her uncle's demeanor, caught the undercurrent beneath his words. He knew of the Lone Light. The certainty settled in her chest like a stone, but she held her tongue, sensing the gravity of the moment. Without further questions, she packed her belongings and boarded a shuttle the next day, bound for Youdu Star.
The capital planet shimmered against the cosmic void, a pearl adrift in the sea of stars. Its nightside glowed with a lattice of lights, a testament to the Empire's might and elegance. Bai Sha disembarked from the starship, her steps purposeful as she made for the Emperor's study. Once, entry to this sanctified domain required navigating a gauntlet of guards and protocols, each checkpoint a reminder of her place as an outsider. Now, as Crown Heir, she moved unimpeded, the palace staff parting before her like waves before a ship's prow.
Cecil and Wei Li awaited her within. The study was pristine, its desk cleared of the usual clutter of state documents—a deliberate gesture, Bai Sha noted, to carve out time for this conversation. Cecil's gaze lingered on her as she entered, his brow furrowing. "Sit. Why do you look so pale?"
The question, delivered with a fatherly concern that belied his imperial stature, caught her off guard. Before she could respond, Cecil glanced at Wei Li. "Get her some tea."
It was an odd request—such menial tasks were beneath Wei Li, the Emperor's trusted aide. Yet the room was empty of servants and guards, a rare solitude that spoke of the discussion's sensitivity. Wei Li, unperturbed, moved with practiced grace, brewing a pot of fragrant red tea. The warm, sweet aroma filled the air, and as Bai Sha sipped, the liquid soothed her nerves, warming her from within. Wei Li, with a subtle smile, poured a second cup and slid it toward Cecil, a quiet gesture of camaraderie.
If Bai Sha looked pale, so did her uncle. Their shared pallor mirrored their shared burden, a tangle of secrets and suspicions. Wei Li's keen eyes flicked between them, noting the tension.
"I'll start," Bai Sha said, breaking the silence. She recounted the fragmented memories that had surfaced—vivid, disjointed images she'd painstakingly organized to ensure accuracy. Careful to avoid embellishment, she described the scenes as objectively as possible: a vast, luminous vessel, its corridors alive with unfamiliar voices; a man's gentle laughter, his silhouette framed against a starfield; and a sense of belonging that felt both foreign and achingly familiar. She produced the sketches she'd sent to Jiang Gui, crude but evocative renderings of the Lone Light's interior, and handed them to Cecil and Wei Li.
As she spoke, her throat grew dry, and she drained her tea in one gulp. Cecil and Wei Li exchanged a glance, a silent confirmation that sent a shiver down her spine. When she finished, Cecil leaned back, his fingers tracing the edge of a sketch. "These memories… they're likely real," he said slowly. "If this is the Lone Light, the details align."
"So you both know what it is," Bai Sha said, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart. "Did you ever try to find her there?"
Wei Li shook his head, his expression tinged with regret. "No one knows where the Lone Light is, Your Highness. We never considered that Princess Xipes might have boarded it."
Bai Sha's cup clinked sharply against its saucer, her hand trembling. "Why not?"
She'd always found it strange that the Lone Light, even if a myth akin to a ghost ship, left no trace in the Empire's annals. The absence of records felt deliberate, a void too conspicuous for a civilization as meticulous as Ares.
Cecil drew a deep breath, his gaze distant. "Let me start from the beginning. This concerns the founding of our Ares Empire."
Bai Sha leaned forward, her pulse quickening. The Empire's history was a tapestry of conquest and unity, woven from the threads of the Feather and Beast Kind clans. But Cecil's next words unraveled a thread she'd never suspected.
"When we built the Empire, it wasn't just the Feather and Beast Kind who fought alongside us. There was another group—the Sea Kind."
Bai Sha nearly choked, her mind reeling. The revelation was a jolt, upending her understanding of her people. She'd once wondered why the Empire's spirit beasts spanned the skies and earth—winged raptors, fleet-footed predators, even amphibious creatures—yet none swam the seas. The absence had seemed a curiosity, not a clue to a hidden legacy.
"The Sea Kind were unique," Cecil continued, his voice measured. "They possessed a rare telepathic bond within their clan, a connection that set them apart. Their culture and temperament clashed with ours, creating friction. After the war, when victory forged our new home, the Feather and Beast Kind chose to settle, to build cities and strongholds. The Sea Kind rejected that path. They embraced a nomadic existence, roaming the cosmos, living and thriving aboard their vessels."
Bai Sha's mind raced, piecing together the implications. The Sea Kind's absence from imperial life wasn't mere oversight—it was a choice, a divergence rooted in their identity.
"They maintained ties with certain clans," Cecil said. "When they changed leaders, they'd send a signal to inform us, or leave messages through trusted channels. But contact was always on their terms, initiated by them. These exchanges occurred roughly every century or two."
Wei Li, seated at a nearby table, picked up the thread, his mild eyes sharpening with focus. "The Sea Kind's life sciences are unparalleled. They've largely abandoned traditional reproduction, relying on advanced biotech to sustain their population. But prolonged inbreeding posed risks, so the Empire periodically opens its gene banks to them. Over millennia, the Sea Kind have blended with other lineages, yet their technology ensures each descendant inherits a marine spirit beast."
Bai Sha's breath caught. The Sea Kind's existence was a marvel, a civilization apart, thriving in the galaxy's uncharted reaches. Their technological prowess extended beyond biology. "Their navigation and mechanical engineering far surpass ours," Wei Li continued. "They're gifted in those domains. Though their numbers are small, they're organized into tribes, united under a single leader. The largest tribe, the seat of their leadership, resides on a mobile fortress—a colossal starship called the Lone Light."
Cecil gestured, and the room's lights dimmed, a holo-screen flickering to life. Archival files, sealed for generations, materialized—grainy images, encrypted logs, and a single, striking photograph. It depicted the Lone Light, a behemoth of sleek curves and glowing conduits, its design both alien and familiar. Bai Sha's sketches, though rough, echoed its aesthetic, confirming her memories weren't mere dreams.
"The Sea Kind's advancements rival our own," Wei Li said, his tone cautious. "We're equals in different spheres. But they're insular, clinging to tradition and wary of outsiders. It's hard to fathom them accepting Princess Xipes into their fold, let alone allowing her to bear a child." His gaze flicked to Bai Sha, complex emotions swirling in his eyes.
Bai Sha bristled. "What's that look? You think they'd toss me out because my spirit's a bird?"
"No, no," Wei Li said quickly, waving his hands. "Your spirit hadn't awakened then. And the Sea Kind aren't savages—they'd never abandon a child. It's just… your case is unusual. By their customs, you should've inherited a Sea Kind spirit."
Cecil rubbed his temples, a rare sign of exasperation. "It might've been an anomaly. Xipes' spirit had vanished by then. They likely didn't know it was a Xuan Bird."
The Xuan Bird's genetic markers were distinct, a hallmark of the Ronin lineage. Yet Xipes, it seemed, had concealed her identity aboard the Lone Light, blending seamlessly with its crew. Had she withheld the truth? The omission suggested a deeper secrecy, one that could've reshaped clan alliances if revealed. A union between a Ronin and a Sea Kind was tantamount to a diplomatic marriage—surely the Sea Kind would've signaled such an event.
Cecil's expression darkened, a storm brewing behind his eyes. He recalled his sister's audacity, her penchant for bending rules to her will. A fleeting, unvoiced suspicion crossed his mind—had Xipes, ever the maverick, ensnared an unsuspecting Sea Kind in a whirlwind romance? He banished the thought, unwilling to voice it before Bai Sha.
Another fear gnawed at him. The Sea Kind were cosmic wanderers, their journeys fraught with peril. Accidents were plausible, but if Bai Sha's separation from the Lone Light wasn't accidental, something catastrophic had occurred aboard that fortress.
"Is there truly no way to contact them?" Bai Sha asked, her voice edged with defiance.
Cecil and Wei Li exchanged another glance, their silence eloquent. Wei Li spoke first, his tone gentle but firm. "I'm afraid not. Their last transmission was over twenty years ago, relatively recent. If all's well, we won't hear from them again for some time."
Cecil nodded. "Back then, my father handled Lone Light affairs. Their message was routine—a courtesy, followed by a gene bank exchange. Nothing out of the ordinary."
Bai Sha leaned forward, her eyes sharp. "Are the records intact?"
They scoured the archives, sifting through texts, navigational data, and sparse audio logs. One recording, a brief exchange during a gene bank transfer, stopped Bai Sha cold. A voice, clear and haunting, flowed through the speakers: "Greetings, this is Navigator Bai Yi, departing from the Lone Light. Route planned and shared. All metrics normal. Our vessel will land at 2100 hours. Please prepare to receive."
The voice was mesmerizing, its clarity laced with an almost siren-like allure, even through the distortion of ancient comms. Bai Sha's skin prickled, her instincts screaming recognition. "It's him," she whispered, her voice trembling. "The man in my memories… it's him."
She hesitated, the word "father" catching in her throat. The coincidence of his surname—Bai—struck her as uncanny, a twist of fate too neat to dismiss. Cecil's face grew graver, his pallor deepening. Wei Li, sensing the shift, refilled Cecil's tea and patted his shoulder, a silent gesture of support.
"Uncle, what's wrong?" Bai Sha asked, her brow furrowing. "You look worse than I do."
Cecil's eyes snapped open, a flicker of pain crossing his features. "I just realized… when we dealt with the Lone Light, Xipes was already Crown Heir. Father likely entrusted her with the negotiations."
The implication hit like a thunderbolt. Xipes had met Bai Yi far earlier than they'd assumed, perhaps during those diplomatic exchanges. When she abdicated and vanished, she hadn't wandered aimlessly—she'd followed Bai Yi, choosing love over duty. The likelihood of deception dwindled, replaced by the stark possibility of elopement.
Cecil's expression twisted, a mix of fury and betrayal. Bai Sha and Wei Li exchanged wary glances, the air thick with tension. Wei Li leaned toward Bai Sha, his voice a whisper. "Best step back. Let His Majesty cool off before we continue."
Bai Sha nodded, inching toward the door, but Cecil's fist slammed onto the desk, the antique wood groaning under the impact. She flinched, startled by the rare display of anger. "Not so fast," Cecil growled, his voice low and dangerous. "We discussed changing your name long ago. Maybe it's time to revisit that."
It took considerable effort to placate her uncle, Bai Sha's diplomatic skills tested as she defended her name. The detour, though jarring, didn't overshadow the progress made. The Creeping Rose's gas, though hazardous, had unlocked vital clues, pointing them toward the Lone Light. The path ahead was fraught—locating the elusive fortress was a near-impossible task—but they had a direction, a thread to follow.
Bai Yi's existence rekindled Cecil's resentment toward Xipes' departure, yet Bai Sha sensed a flicker of relief in him. Xipes hadn't left the Empire alone; she'd found love, a bond strong enough for Bai Yi to defy his clan's insularity and welcome her. Whether Xipes hid her identity or Bai Yi concealed it, their union had bridged two worlds, birthing Bai Sha—a child of both Empire and Sea Kind.
Her origins, once a simple mystery, now entangled a civilization apart. The Sea Kind, with their distinct language and customs, had drifted far from the Empire, their distance feeling deliberate. Bai Sha sifted through her memories—brief, warm glimpses of a family not unlike any other. Were they incomplete, or was the Sea Kind's life truly so akin to her own? The urge to inhale more Rose gas tugged at her, but the supply was scarce, tightly controlled, and its addictive pull dangerous.
Her musings were interrupted by a curt message from Jiang Gui: Where are you?
The question, punctuated by a stark question mark, radiated her mentor's ire. Bai Sha slapped her forehead, cursing her oversight. She'd promised to deliver the Red-Feather Sparrow Queen's remains for analysis. Typing a frantic reply—"Materials are in cold storage, bringing them now!"—she rushed from her palace, summoning aides to retrieve the corpse from her private vault. A shuttle was arranged to ferry it to Jiang Gui's private planet.
Jiang Gui, the galaxy's premier mech engineer, could afford such luxuries, though private planets near Tianxu were exorbitantly priced. Her world was modest in size, its surface largely barren save for labs and factories. No greenery softened its stark landscape, a fact Bai Sha noted as she landed. "Teacher, don't you want to plant something? It'd hide the ugliness."
Jiang Gui, granting her access, glanced at the desolate terrain. "Grass? Nah. Maybe some Starbugs."
Bai Sha winced. "Never mind."
It was her first visit to Jiang Gui's domain. After logging Bai Sha's biometric data, Jiang Gui opened select lab sectors to her. The Queen's remains, stored in a silver cryo-unit, had traveled from Dead Omen to Youdu and now here. As Bai Sha's property, it required her authorization to access. She tapped the scanner, and the unit hissed, its lid sliding open to reveal the pristine corpse.
"Let's take a look," Jiang Gui said, her protective suit and e-goggles humming with analytical overlays. She studied the body, a low chuckle escaping her. "Not bad."
High praise from her. Bai Sha grinned. "Right?"
The corpse was flawless—no extraneous wounds, no missing limbs, just a single, deep gash from chest to back, evidence of a lethal strike. "Who did this?" Jiang Gui asked.
"Uriel," Bai Sha replied. "I let him rest when we're idle—his energy's limited."
"One of the Four Angels? No wonder it's surgical. Learn from him—it's a lifelong skill."
The Queen's size demanded robotic arms for inspection. Jiang Gui maneuvered them with precision, her voice taking on a teacher's cadence. "Today, I'll show you something different—material processing from scratch. Watch closely."
Bai Sha leaned in, intrigued. "My methods aren't pretty or artistic," Jiang Gui continued. "They're about efficiency and utility. I'll teach you how to use whatever tools you have in the field to turn a bloody Starbug corpse into usable materials for mechs and weapons."
Such knowledge seemed superfluous for a Crown Heir, unlikely to scavenge in the wild. Mech engineers typically worked with refined materials, rigorously vetted for quality. Substandard stock was destroyed or sold cheaply. Starbug remains, often toxic and laced with residual mental energy or radiation, were rarely processed directly—too hazardous, especially from high-tier bugs. Yet Jiang Gui offered a new perspective.
"Don't just look—see with your mental energy," she instructed. "Trace the energy pathways in its body, how power flows."
Bai Sha focused, her senses attuning to the corpse's latent energy. Mech energy systems, she realized, mimicked Starbug physiology, their designs inspired by nature's ingenuity. "Starbugs can be your teachers," Jiang Gui said. "Their bodies hold marvels we can emulate."
The Queen's multiple hearts fascinated her, a potential blueprint for an energy pump. Jiang Gui's hands moved instinctively, her speed mesmerizing. "This is a rapid demo," she explained, guiding Bai Sha step-by-step. "Note the lingering aura. As a Queen, it's potent. To preserve material quality and avoid contamination, you must neutralize its mental residue with your own."
Bai Sha watched, awestruck, recalling Jiang Gui's own 3S+ mental strength—a rarity that marked her as a formidable combatant. Curiosity got the better of her. "Teacher, you're so skilled… have you killed Starbugs yourself?"
Jiang Gui snorted. "What kind of question is that? How do you think I built my legendary mech? No one hands out premium materials. I hunted those bugs on the front lines."
Bai Sha gaped. "You're a combat engineer too? You hid it well!"