Descent to Elvara Prime
The Red Radiant cut through the fractured skies of Elvara Prime —
a world once lush and whole, now shattered by ancient wars.
Below them stretched a broken moon —
its jagged remains orbiting the planet like cosmic scars.
Plo monitored the descent from the nav station, her expression tight.
"Life signs detected… sparse but present," she reported.
"The healer's signal is faint, but it's coming from the southern ruins."
Zaraya gripped the controls tighter, her jaw set.
In the medbay, Jaxen lay still —
fevered, shivering, lost in dreams poisoned by magic.
Time was running out.
"Hang on, Jax," Zaraya muttered under her breath. "We're bringing help."
Landing in the Wreckage
The Red Radiant landed in a blasted valley,
where crumbling ruins rose like skeletal fingers from the ash.
Dead forests stretched beyond.
Tattered banners from fallen empires flapped in the cold winds.
Strange, twisted plants grew between the cracks — mutated by cosmic energy.
Kaelen and Iselyra disembarked first, scanning the ruins.
Plo clutched Drex's saddle, eyes wide.
"I'm detecting residual magical traces… very old… very wild," she whispered.
Zaraya stepped down last, cosmic energy coiled tight around her fists —
just in case.
"Stay sharp," she ordered. "We're not alone."
First Contact
As they moved deeper into the ruins,
they saw her:
A lone figure kneeling beside a collapsed refugee,
hands glowing softly with golden-green light.
Aerin.
Autumn red hair flowing like a living flame.
Amber-gold eyes shimmering with sorrow and strength.
Wearing the woven leathers and moss-crowned garb of the ancient Dawnroot.
Her staff planted in the ground beside her, pulsing faintly with natural magic.
She was healing a wounded child —
even as danger loomed closer.
The Danger Revealed
From the shattered forest beyond,
dark figures crept:
Soldiers wearing the insignia of the Velvaran Republic's frontier legions —
the very ones oppressing her tribe.
These weren't official patrols.
They were hired enforcers —
mercenaries tasked with capturing Aerin or ensuring she never left Elvara Prime.
Kaelen spotted them instantly, tensing.
Iselyra's hand went to Frostbrand.
Zaraya's cosmic light flared bright.
"No one's taking her," Zaraya growled.
Plo gulped, mounting Drex quickly.
"We're going loud, aren't we?"
Zaraya grinned fiercely.
"Always."
The Battle for Aerin
The Dawnbreakers exploded into action:
Kaelen slipped into the shadows — reappearing behind enemy lines, severing weapons with surgical precision.
Iselyra summoned a storm of frost and blade, halting an entire flank.
Plo deployed dazzling teleport traps — confusing and scattering the mercenaries.
Zaraya punched through the front line, a living meteor of cosmic fury.
And in the center of it all,
Aerin rose slowly —
her golden eyes narrowing.
She lifted her staff —
and the earth answered.
Vines erupted from the ground.
Ancient roots shattered stone.
The very forest roared back against the invaders.
The mercenaries broke — running for their lives.
Aftermath
Breathing heavily, Zaraya approached Aerin.
The druid stood tall despite the fear in her eyes —
staff planted firmly beside her.
"Are you the healer?" Zaraya asked, chest heaving.
Aerin nodded shyly.
"I am Aerin of the Dawnroot Tribe."
"Good," Zaraya said. "Because we need you."
She explained — briefly, urgently — about Jaxen, the poison, the need for druidic magic.
Aerin listened, hands twisting nervously around her staff.
Fear flickered across her face —
the fear of leaving her people, breaking her father's rules.
But also…
A deep, fierce compassion sparked behind her golden eyes.
She pressed a hand to her heart —
to the tattoo of the Dawnroot sigil on her chest.
And she nodded.
"I will come."
"I will save him."
Descent to Elvara Prime
The Red Radiant cut through the fractured skies of Elvara Prime —
a world once lush and whole, now shattered by ancient wars.
Below them stretched a broken moon —
its jagged remains orbiting the planet like cosmic scars.
Plo monitored the descent from the nav station, her expression tight.
"Life signs detected… sparse but present," she reported.
"The healer's signal is faint, but it's coming from the southern ruins."
Zaraya gripped the controls tighter, her jaw set.
In the medbay, Jaxen lay still —
fevered, shivering, lost in dreams poisoned by magic.
Time was running out.
"Hang on, Jax," Zaraya muttered under her breath. "We're bringing help."
Landing in the Wreckage
The Red Radiant landed in a blasted valley,
where crumbling ruins rose like skeletal fingers from the ash.
Dead forests stretched beyond.
Tattered banners from fallen empires flapped in the cold winds.
Strange, twisted plants grew between the cracks — mutated by cosmic energy.
Kaelen and Iselyra disembarked first, scanning the ruins.
Plo clutched Drex's saddle, eyes wide.
"I'm detecting residual magical traces… very old… very wild," she whispered.
Zaraya stepped down last, cosmic energy coiled tight around her fists —
just in case.
"Stay sharp," she ordered. "We're not alone."
First Contact
As they moved deeper into the ruins,
they saw her:
A lone figure kneeling beside a collapsed refugee,
hands glowing softly with golden-green light.
Aerin.
Autumn red hair flowing like a living flame.
Amber-gold eyes shimmering with sorrow and strength.
Wearing the woven leathers and moss-crowned garb of the ancient Dawnroot.
Her staff planted in the ground beside her, pulsing faintly with natural magic.
She was healing a wounded child —
even as danger loomed closer.
The Danger Revealed
From the shattered forest beyond,
dark figures crept:
Soldiers wearing the insignia of the Velvaran Republic's frontier legions —
the very ones oppressing her tribe.
These weren't official patrols.
They were hired enforcers —
mercenaries tasked with capturing Aerin or ensuring she never left Elvara Prime.
Kaelen spotted them instantly, tensing.
Iselyra's hand went to Frostbrand.
Zaraya's cosmic light flared bright.
"No one's taking her," Zaraya growled.
Plo gulped, mounting Drex quickly.
"We're going loud, aren't we?"
Zaraya grinned fiercely.
"Always."
The Battle for Aerin
The Dawnbreakers exploded into action:
Kaelen slipped into the shadows — reappearing behind enemy lines, severing weapons with surgical precision.
Iselyra summoned a storm of frost and blade, halting an entire flank.
Plo deployed dazzling teleport traps — confusing and scattering the mercenaries.
Zaraya punched through the front line, a living meteor of cosmic fury.
And in the center of it all,
Aerin rose slowly —
her golden eyes narrowing.
She lifted her staff —
and the earth answered.
Vines erupted from the ground.
Ancient roots shattered stone.
The very forest roared back against the invaders.
The mercenaries broke — running for their lives.
Aftermath
Breathing heavily, Zaraya approached Aerin.
The druid stood tall despite the fear in her eyes —
staff planted firmly beside her.
"Are you the healer?" Zaraya asked, chest heaving.
Aerin nodded shyly.
"I am Aerin of the Dawnroot Tribe."
"Good," Zaraya said. "Because we need you."
She explained — briefly, urgently — about Jaxen, the poison, the need for druidic magic.
Aerin listened, hands twisting nervously around her staff.
Fear flickered across her face —
the fear of leaving her people, breaking her father's rules.
But also…
A deep, fierce compassion sparked behind her golden eyes.
She pressed a hand to her heart —
to the tattoo of the Dawnroot sigil on her chest.
And she nodded.
"I will come."
"I will save him."