"Yuuki," Athushar said, drawing my attention. "This is Sky. One of my offspring."

  I blinked.

  "Wait—Sky is your child?"

  "Correct. Sky is also my attendant."

  Interesting hierarchy. A child who serves their parent. I wasn't sure if that was normal for celestials or something specific to Athushar's household.

  Athushar turned toward Sky. "We will speak later. For now, take Yuuki outside. He seems the type to learn through experience rather than words."

  That was... surprisingly perceptive.

  "Understood," Sky said, drifting toward the door.

  I followed, glancing back at Athushar once before stepping outside. The celestial had already turned away, attending to something I couldn't see.

  The atmosphere outside felt different now—heavier somehow, though I couldn't explain why. Maybe it was the way the light had shifted. The seven suns had moved lower in the sky, their amber glow deepening toward orange.

  How long have I been here?

  It felt like hours. It also felt like minutes. Time moved strangely in this place.

  Sky led me to a small pond near the cottage—not the glowing one I'd emerged from, but something more ordinary. The water reflected the golden trees and the darkening sky. We sat at its edge, the yellow grass soft beneath me.

  "Yuuki," Sky said, its melodic voice cutting through my thoughts. "Is there something I can help you with?"

  "I have questions. About this world. About what I can do here."

  "Then ask."

  I took a breath.

  "Materia and Archtype—can I learn them? Can I use them?"

  "Materia, yes. Any being with sufficient focus can learn to wield it." Sky paused. "Archtype is different. It is not learned. It manifests—or it does not."

  "So even celestials don't all have Archtypes?"

  "Correct. I do not possess one. Few celestials do. An Archtype is a fragment of Bahavala's essence. It chooses its vessel."

  So Archtype is rare. Even here.

  "What about Materia? How does that work?"

  "Materia is the manipulation of existing elements through connection with their cores. Every natural substance—water, stone, fire, wind—possesses a core. A unique signature. To wield Materia, you must first learn to sense these cores."

  "Can you teach me?"

  The question came out more eager than I intended.

  "I can teach you the foundations," Sky said. "Whether you can apply them depends on you."

  "Then let's start."

  Sky began explaining the basics—how cores existed in everything, how sensing them required emptying the mind, how manipulation came only after familiarity. I tried to focus on every word.

  But as Sky spoke, my gaze drifted toward the horizon.

  The suns were setting.

  Not all at once—they staggered, each one dipping below the edge of the floating islands at a different pace. The sky shifted through colors I'd never seen on Earth. Gold bleeding into coral. Coral darkening to violet. Violet dissolving into deep indigo.

  It was beautiful.

  And it made me think of home.

  Pops used to watch sunsets with me.

  We'd sit on the apartment balcony, not talking, just watching the sky change. He said it was his favorite time of day—the moment when everything slowed down.

  I never got to say goodbye.

  My throat tightened. My vision blurred.

  Crap. Not now.

  I blinked rapidly, forcing the tears back. Sky was still talking, but I couldn't hear the words anymore. Everything sounded distant, muffled, like I was underwater.

  "Is something wrong?"

  Sky had stopped. Its blank blue eyes were fixed on me.

  I opened my mouth to deflect—to make a joke, change the subject, do what I always did.

  But I couldn't.

  "Sky," I said quietly, "is there any way to go back? To my home?"

  The celestial was silent for a moment.

  "Why do you wish to return?"

  "I left someone behind." My voice came out smaller than I wanted. "We didn't... there was no closure. No goodbye. I just vanished."

  I hated this. Hated how vulnerable it made me feel. Hated the idea that Sky might pity me—this strange, ancient being looking at the sad little human who couldn't even die properly.

  But Sky's face remained blank. Its voice stayed level.

  That's why it's easier to talk to strangers. Their judgment doesn't stick.

  "I do not know if return is possible," Sky said finally. "What is your world called?"

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  "Earth."

  "Earth." Sky seemed to consider this. "I have no knowledge of a world by that name. But there are many worlds with life, similar to Sphere. The Blue Luminary may know more."

  "May know more about what?"

  I turned.

  Athushar was behind us, hovering silently at the edge of the clearing. I hadn't heard the celestial approach.

  "Athushar," I said, my heart beating faster. "Do you know Earth?"

  "Earth?" Athushar paused, and I watched its form shift subtly—a gesture that might have been contemplation. "A world known for its advanced technology?"

  I froze.

  It knows.

  It knows about Earth.

  Hope surged through me so fast it almost hurt.

  "Yes!" I said. "That's it. That's my world."

  "Then I may have encountered it before."

  "How? When?"

  "A millennium ago," Athushar said, "an otherworlder was transported to this realm. A woman. She arrived in a kingdom called Silva."

  Silva?

  I searched my memory. History had never been my strongest subject, but I knew the major ancient civilizations—Egypt, Mesopotamia, the Indus Valley. I didn't recognize Silva.

  ? Checking your memories. I cannot find a kingdom named Silva. The closest match is the Silla Kingdom, an ancient dynasty in Korea. But the timeframes do not align. ?

  "Athushar," I said slowly, "this woman—she told you she was from Earth?"

  "She never spoke that name."

  "But you said Earth has advanced technology. How did you know that if she never—"

  I stopped.

  The hope that had been building in my chest collapsed.

  ? Yuuki. According to Athushar's description, this woman cannot be from Earth. ?

  I know.

  ? Earth did not possess advanced technology a millennium ago. And no kingdom called Silva existed in any historical record you've encountered. ?

  I know, AI.

  The woman Athushar met wasn't from my Earth. She was from somewhere else—another world that merely shared some similarities.

  Which meant Athushar didn't know Earth at all.

  "Yuuki?" Athushar's voice cut through my spiral. "Is there more you wish to ask?"

  I almost laughed. Almost cried.

  "No," I said. "It's just... fragments. My memories are still scattered."

  The lie felt bitter on my tongue. I was getting worse at this, not better.

  ? Yuuki. I should inform you—by expressing a desire to return home, you have implicitly admitted to remembering where you came from. ?

  ...Oh.

  Oh no.

  I waited for Athushar to call me out. To point out the contradiction. To reveal that it had known I was lying this whole time.

  But the celestial simply regarded me with those blank, unreadable eyes.

  "Very well," Athushar said. "Memory often returns in pieces. It is not unusual."

  The words were neutral. The tone was flat.

  And yet—something in the pause before it spoke told me Athushar wasn't fooled. It simply didn't care enough to press.

  It's helping me because it has to. Not because it believes me.

  I didn't know whether that made things better or worse.

  "Is there anything else you wish to ask?" Sky said, drawing my attention back.

  I took a breath. Steadied myself.

  I can't change the past. I can't undo the lies. All I can do is move forward.

  "Yeah," I said. "Let's go back to the Materia training. You were explaining how to sense cores."

  Sky resumed the explanation while the last of the suns disappeared below the horizon.

  The sky above us deepened into true night—and then I saw the moon.

  It wasn't like Earth's moon. This one was larger, closer, and luminous in a way that seemed almost deliberate. It cast silver light across the skyland, turning the golden grass pale and the pond into a mirror.

  "To sense cores," Sky was saying, "you must first quiet your mind. Release all thought. Only in stillness can you perceive what exists beyond your ordinary senses."

  "How do I do that?"

  "Close your eyes. Focus on your breath. Let everything else fall away."

  I closed my eyes.

  Quiet your mind.

  Easier said than done. My thoughts kept circling—Earth, my father, the lies I'd told, the hope I'd lost.

  Stop. Focus.

  I tried to imagine emptiness. A white cloud. A blank wall. An infinite white space with nothing inside it.

  Slowly, the noise faded.

  I became aware of my heartbeat. Steady. Rhythmic. The sound of blood moving through my body.

  Then—a ringing in my ears. Faint, like a distant tone.

  Then—the wind. Cool against my skin, carrying the faint scent of something sweet I couldn't name.

  Then—the grass beneath me. Each blade pressing against my legs, individual and distinct.

  My breath grew clearer. Deeper.

  And then—something else.

  A sensation in my hands. Not quite temperature. Not quite pressure. Something like... particles. Tiny spheres of cold, brushing against my palms. Like sand made of winter air.

  AI—is this it? Is this the core?

  ? Based on Sky's description, yes. You are sensing the wind's core. ?

  I'm doing it. I'm actually—

  The sensation vanished.

  My eyes snapped open. The night air rushed back in. The pond rippled gently. Sky hovered nearby, watching.

  "You lost focus," Sky observed.

  "I got excited," I admitted. "But I felt something. Cold particles, like compressed wind."

  "That was the core of air. You sensed it."

  "On my first try?"

  "The sensing was successful. The maintaining was not." Sky's tone was matter-of-fact, but not unkind. "You understand the principle now. Practice will determine how far you progress."

  I nodded, still feeling the ghost of that sensation on my palms.

  I can do this. I can actually learn this.

  "The moon shines brightly," Sky said. "We should return."

  I looked up. The celestial was right—the moon had reached its peak, flooding the landscape with silver light.

  "Right," I said. "Let's go."

  We walked back toward the cottage in comfortable silence. The golden trees looked different at night—their leaves still glowed faintly, but the color had shifted from warm amber to cool silver-gold. The lesser spirits I'd seen earlier were gone, replaced by different points of light—softer, slower, drifting like embers from an invisible fire.

  At the cottage door, Sky stopped.

  "I will take my leave here," the celestial said. "The Blue Luminary prefers solitude at night."

  "Where will you—" I started, then caught myself. "Never mind. That's not my business."

  "Rest well, Yuuki."

  Sky drifted away, disappearing around the back of the cottage into the darkness beyond.

  I watched until the celestial's glow faded completely, then turned and entered the cottage.

  Inside, Athushar was seated at a small table, consuming what appeared to be some kind of luminous fruit. The celestial's form cast blue light across the walls, mingling with the silver moonlight that filtered through the windows.

  I sat across from Athushar. On the table were several fruits I didn't recognize—spherical, faintly glowing, ranging in color from pale gold to deep violet.

  "Are these safe for me to eat?" I asked.

  "I have offered them to otherworlders before. They survived."

  Reassuring phrasing.

  I picked up a golden fruit and bit into it. The texture was like a firm pear, but the taste was entirely alien—sweet with an undertone of something almost savory, like honey mixed with herbs.

  We ate in silence.

  I'd expected awkwardness, but instead it felt... neutral. Athushar didn't seem to require conversation, and I was too tired to force small talk. The quiet was almost comfortable.

  After the meal, Athushar guided me to the couch I'd sat on earlier.

  "You will sleep here," the celestial said. "I will provide covering."

  Athushar disappeared into another room and returned with a large sheet of fabric—thicker than what I was wearing, soft against my fingers.

  "Thank you," I said.

  Athushar inclined its form slightly—the closest thing to a nod I'd seen from the celestial—and drifted toward a doorway at the back of the cottage.

  "Rest," Athushar said. "Tomorrow, your education begins properly."

  Then it was gone.

  I lay on the couch, wrapped in the blanket, staring at the ceiling.

  Moonlight streamed through the windows, painting everything in silver and shadow. The cottage creaked softly, settling into the night.

  So much happened today.

  I died. I floated through space. I met a voice in my head. I emerged in another world. I encountered celestials. I learned about Materia. I felt the core of wind.

  And I lost my hope of easily returning to Earth.

  But it's not gone completely.

  AI was right. I didn't just appear here—I was pulled. Which meant there was a mechanism. A path. Maybe not one I could see yet, but something.

  I'll find it. Somehow.

  AI?

  ? Yes, Yuuki? ?

  I feel tired. So much has happened. It feels like days, but it's only been hours.

  ? Your mind and body have been through significant stress. Rest is advisable. ?

  Yeah.

  I closed my eyes.

  I still don't know why I'm here. Whether it was intentional or coincidence. What this world wants from me, if anything.

  But I'm alive. Somehow.

  And tomorrow, I'll figure out the rest.

  Goodnight, AI.

  ? Goodnight, Yuuki. ?

  The moonlight shifted across the floor.

  And slowly, finally, I fell asleep.