I shifted in the hollow the sisters had built for me, the soft earth cradling my body like a nest. Above, the stars sprawled across the sky in a tapestry of light, their patterns familiar yet distant, as if they held secrets I couldn't quite remember. Moonfall sat beside me, her silhouette framed by the twin moons of Shili, her bioluminescent markings glowing faintly in the darkness. Her eyes were fixed on the heavens, but I could feel her attention on me, heavy and unspoken.

"Do we have any... nrophters?" I asked, the words clumsy on my tongue. My voice felt strange, as though it belonged to someone else.

Moonfall blinked, her violet eyes flicking to mine. "What?"

I frowned, struggling to shape the sounds. "Brothers," I tried again, the word clearer this time. "Do we have any brothers?"

For a moment, she didn't answer. The wind whispered through the grass, carrying the scent of wildflowers and something sharper—ozone, maybe, or the faint tang of blood. Her gaze returned to the stars, her expression unreadable.

"No," she said at last, her voice soft but final. "No brothers. Just us. Just the sisters."

I wanted to ask more—why not? Were there ever any? What happened to them?—but the words caught in my throat. Moonfall's tone left no room for questions, and the way her claws flexed against the earth told me this was a wound she wouldn't reopen.

Instead, I lay back, the cool grass brushing against my montrals, and stared at the stars. They seemed closer here, brighter, as though I could reach out and pluck them from the sky. But every time I tried to focus on one, it slipped away, just out of reach.

Moonfall's hand found mine, her claws gentle against my palm. "Rest, sister," she murmured. "The stars will keep their secrets for now."

I wanted to argue, to demand answers, but exhaustion pulled at me like a tide. My eyes fluttered shut, and the last thing I saw was Moonfall's face, her violet eyes filled with a sorrow I couldn't name.

SCENEBREAK

Anakin ran a gloved hand through his hair, huffing like a caged animal. "That thing flattened half a district. We're supposed to just sit here sipping tea while it naps?" His voice was razor-sharp with disbelief. "What if it wakes up? What if it—"

"That's exactly why we're here," Obi-Wan interjected, standing slowly with his usual measured grace. "To ensure that when it wakes, it does so peacefully — or at the very least, without flattening the rest of the capital."

The kaiju sprawled before them was a monstrosity of sinew and scaled armor, its hide gleaming faintly under the fading light of the twin suns. The beast's chest rose and fell in ponderous rhythm, each breath stirring clouds of dust across the battlefield remnants. Its claws, long as starfighters, dug shallow trenches into the earth even in its slumber.

Anakin shot a glance at the crew of engineers scrambling to finish their work — the ground quaked with every hammer blow as they drove titanium pylons deep into the bedrock. A web of reinforced steel cables stretched taut around the kaiju's limbs, designed to hold even against seismic thrashing.

"You really think cables are going to hold that thing?" Anakin asked skeptically, gesturing at the beast.

Obi-Wan gave a half-smile, eyes sharp with that maddening blend of serenity and practicality. "No. I think they'll buy us enough time to respond if it gets unpleasant."

"Unpleasant," Anakin echoed bitterly. "It ate three walkers, Obi-Wan. Whole."

"Yes, and I'm sure they were terribly indigestible."

Anakin clenched his fists, the faint scent of burnt ozone wafting through the air as his frustration threatened to ignite into a storm. "I don't know how you do it. Act like none of this gets to you."

Obi-Wan's expression softened. "Oh, it gets to me, Anakin. The trick is not letting it control you." He rested a hand briefly on his former apprentice's shoulder. "Which brings us back to Nyx."

Their eyes both settled on the lone figure standing near the beast's massive, serrated head. Nyx, her face pale but resolute, surveyed the scene with an intensity that belied the tremor in her hands.

"She's the key," Obi-Wan said quietly. "You know that."

Anakin's jaw tightened. "We're asking too much of her."

"We're asking what's necessary," Obi-Wan corrected gently. "No one else has a connection with this creature, and she's stronger than you think."

A thunderous groan rumbled from the kaiju's chest, shaking the earth beneath their feet. Dust cascaded from nearby structures as the cables creaked ominously.

Nyx turned toward them, her expression resolute. "It's stirring," she called, her voice steady despite the weight of the moment.

Anakin's heart raced. "Time's up," he muttered. "Hope your tea break was worth it, Master."

Obi-Wan adjusted his cloak with an air of maddening calm. "It always is."

SCENEBREAK

In the Aether, I stiffened as I felt the pull — the unmistakable tug calling me back to the living world. A shimmering fracture of light tore across the void, beckoning. My body tensed, reluctant yet powerless against it.

And then I saw her.

Massive. Elemental. Godzilla incarnate. Her towering form loomed in the shifting mists, scales gleaming with raw, ancient power. She regarded me with eyes like molten suns, vast and unknowable.

"You're waking up," said a voice.

Seven.

He stood at the edge of my vision, calm but resolute, his silhouette flickering with threads of golden energy. His face was somber, shadowed by something deeper than words.

"I hope you join us again soon, sister," he said quietly, stepping back into the swirling currents of the Aether. His presence faded, dissolving into motes of light that spiraled upward like ash on the wind.

I opened my mouth to call out, but the void shuddered around me. A crushing weight gripped my senses as everything collapsed inward.

And then — blackness.

The fall was endless, heavy with gravity and purpose. The living world roared back into being, pulling me from the ethereal expanse with merciless force. I braced for impact, heart racing, mind fragmented between realms.