The lexicon lay open on Misaki's lap, displaying a detailed illustration of a Vro'gath in mid-charge. He'd been reading for what felt like hours, absorbing information about the deadly fauna of Vulcan, when a question occurred to him. He looked up as Lyria entered the hut carrying a wooden tray.
"How often do people sleep here?" he asked. "I mean, with a fifty-hour day, the sleep schedule must be different from what I'm used to."
Lyria set the tray down on a small table and considered the question. "Most people sleep once per cycle—about ten hours during the night period. Then we take a shorter rest during the day, usually around five hours, though that varies depending on one's work and obligations." She tilted her head slightly. "Why do you ask?"
"Just trying to understand the rhythm of life here," Misaki said. He glanced at the system interface that still floated at the edge of his vision. The recovery progress had ticked upward steadily as he'd been reading. "On Earth, we had twenty-four-hour days. Eight hours of sleep was standard, though I rarely got that much during training."
"Twenty-four hours." Lyria shook her head slightly, as if trying to imagine such a compressed existence. "That seems impossibly short. How did you accomplish anything?"
Misaki laughed, then winced as the movement pulled at his healing wound. "We managed. Though I have to admit, the idea of a five-hour nap in the middle of the day sounds pretty appealing right now."
"You'll adjust." Lyria moved to his side and gestured toward the lexicon. "How far have you gotten?"
"I just finished the section on the Vro family predators." Misaki flipped back a few pages, revealing the detailed bestiary entries. "It's fascinating how they've evolved to match their environments. The Vro'ji'xu camouflaging in the Tra'ji'xu bushes, the Vro'miz'tra mimicking valuable wood..." He paused, a thought occurring to him. "The book mentions different regions. Ul'varh'mir, Seleun'mhir, Val'kaz'ra—I'm assuming M'lod is part of Ul'varh'mir?"
"Correct." Lyria settled into her chair, seeming pleased by his initiative. "Ul'varh'mir is our nation—the kingdom of rare woods, iron, copper, and dungeons. We're bordered by several other nations, each with their own resources and cultures. Seleun'mhir to the north is the mountain kingdom, rich in mythril metal. Val'kaz'ra to the east is the desert nation—they control the largest gold reserves and are considered the strongest military power on the continent."
She gestured toward the book. "Keep reading. There's a whole section on regional geography and political structures. You'll need to understand the broader world if you're going to survive in it."
Misaki nodded, about to return to his reading when his stomach growled loudly enough to echo in the small hut. He felt his face heat with embarrassment.
Lyria's lips quirked in amusement. "Which brings me to why I'm here. You need to eat." She retrieved the tray and brought it to him. The bowl contained a thick stew filled with chunks of meat, root vegetables he didn't recognize, and what looked like dark grains floating in a rich, aromatic broth. Steam rose from the surface, carrying scents of herbs and something earthy that made his mouth water.
"What is it?" Misaki asked, accepting the bowl carefully.
"Stone hog stew with mountain root, starc, and sha'ku'shuk herbs," Lyria explained. "Simple village fare, but it's nutritious. The stone hog provides protein for muscle recovery, and the sha'ku'shuk will help fortify your spiritual channels."
Misaki lifted a spoonful to his lips and tasted. The flavor exploded across his tongue—savory and rich, with an unexpected sweetness from the starc that balanced the earthy bitterness of the herbs. The meat was tender, practically melting in his mouth, and the broth had a depth that spoke of hours of slow cooking.
"This is incredible," he said after swallowing. "I mean, really incredible. We had nothing like this on the space station. Everything there was freeze-dried or reconstituted." He took another spoonful, then another, suddenly ravenous. The warmth of the stew spread through his chest, and he could feel it energizing him in a way that went beyond simple calories.
Lyria watched him eat with an expression of quiet satisfaction. "I'm glad you approve. Millia, our village cook, takes pride in her work."
Misaki finished the bowl faster than he'd intended, scraping the last bits of broth from the sides. He looked up to find Lyria smiling at him. "Can I... would it be possible to have seconds?"
"Of course." She took the bowl from him. "The fact that you have an appetite is a good sign. Your body is healing quickly." She moved to the door, then paused. "While I'm gone, try standing. Carefully. I want to see how much mobility you've regained."
After she left, Misaki took a deep breath and shifted his weight. The movement sent a dull ache through his abdomen, but nothing like the agonizing pain from before. He swung his legs over the edge of the bedding, letting them hang for a moment as he adjusted to the change in position.
Okay. Here goes.
Using the wall for support, Misaki pushed himself to his feet. His legs trembled slightly, weak from disuse and blood loss, but they held. He stood there for a moment, marveling at the simple act of being vertical. Two days ago, he'd been impaled and dying. Now he was standing.
The Greater Restoration Draught is no joke.
He took a tentative step, then another. The world swayed slightly, but his balance held. By the time Lyria returned with a second bowl of stew, he'd managed to walk a full circuit around the small hut.
"Excellent," Lyria said, watching him with an approving nod. She handed him the bowl, and Misaki settled back onto the bedding to eat, his legs grateful for the rest. "Your recovery is progressing better than I'd hoped. Which means we can begin the next phase."
"Next phase?" Misaki asked between bites.
"Meditation." Lyria's expression grew serious. "If you want to unlock your abilities, you need to establish a connection with your chakra channels. Right now, your spiritual pathways are stabilized but unopened. Meditation is how we teach the body to recognize and channel power."
She sat down across from him, folding her legs beneath her in a cross-legged position. "The power system of Vulcan is based on the seven chakras—energy centers located along the spine and head. Each chakra corresponds to an element and a type of power. Muladhara, at the base of the spine, governs earth. Svadhisthana, in the lower abdomen, controls water. Manipura, at the solar plexus, channels fire."
Misaki nodded, remembering the information from the void-space tutorial. "And Anahata for air, Vishuddha for sound, Ajna for light, and the Crown chakra for planetary energy."
"Correct. Though the Crown chakra remains theoretical—no one has achieved full awakening of it in recorded history." Lyria leaned forward slightly. "Most people manifest an affinity for one or two chakras based on their planetary alignment at birth. The meditation practices help you discover which chakras are naturally open to you and strengthen your connection to them."
"And for someone like me, who wasn't born here?"
"The system seems to have accepted you, given the interface you're seeing. So presumably, you have latent affinities waiting to be discovered." Lyria stood and extended a hand to help him up. "There's only one way to find out. The village temple has meditation sessions every evening during the tenth hour. We should go now while you still have energy."
Misaki finished his second bowl of stew and accepted her hand, letting her help him to his feet. His legs felt steadier this time, and though the walk to the door made him breathe harder than it should have, he managed it without assistance.
The village of M'lod revealed itself as they stepped outside. The structures were built partially into the earth, their rounded roofs covered in living thatch that seemed to grow organically from the ground. Smoke rose from central chimneys, and villagers moved between buildings with the easy efficiency of people who'd lived their entire lives in one place. Children played in a central square, their laughter carrying on the breeze.
But what caught Misaki's attention was the sky.
The rings of Vulcan stretched across the heavens in magnificent arcs, their surfaces catching the light and reflecting it in bands of gold and crimson. But it was the sun—Ulth'rk—that made Misaki stop in his tracks and stare.
It hung low on the horizon, far lower than any sunset he'd ever seen on Earth, its position seeming almost wrong, as if the entire world was tilted at an impossible angle. The star itself was massive beyond comprehension, dominating nearly a quarter of the visible sky with its orange-red brilliance. Misaki knew intellectually that it had to be incredibly distant to not incinerate the planet, but his Earth-trained mind struggled to process the sheer scale of it.
Two hundred and fifty-eight times larger than our sun, he thought, awe washing over him. And Vulcan's orbit must be incredibly eccentric for the star to hang that low.
The light it cast was different too—deeper, richer, painting everything in warm amber tones that made the village look like it existed in a perpetual golden hour. Shadows stretched long and dramatic across the ground, and the temperature felt pleasantly warm despite what should have been evening.
Two smaller celestial bodies were visible as well: one brilliant white and one shimmering with an almost purple quality, both hanging in different parts of the sky like cosmic ornaments.
"That's Ulth'rk, our primary star," Lyria said, following his gaze. "Its position changes throughout our orbital cycle, sometimes rising higher, sometimes hanging lower. Right now we're in the descent phase—it will continue to lower over the next several months before beginning its rise again. The white one is Tash'kar, and the purple is Myrulen. You'll see different planets visible depending on the time of year and their orbital positions."
"It's beautiful," Misaki breathed. "And terrifying. I've seen stars up close during space travel, but nothing like this."
She led him through the village, and Misaki became aware of eyes watching him. Villagers stopped their work to stare, some with curiosity, others with wariness. A few nodded respectfully to Lyria, who acknowledged them with small gestures but didn't stop to talk.
The temple sat at the village's edge, built against a natural stone outcropping. Unlike the other structures, it was made entirely of carved stone, with pillars that rose to support a domed ceiling. Symbols were etched into every surface—the same flowing script Misaki had seen on the system interface, combined with geometric patterns that seemed to shift and move in his peripheral vision.
Inside, the air was cool and heavy with incense. The main chamber was circular, with the floor marked by seven concentric rings of different colored stones. At the center sat a raised dais where an elderly man in white robes meditated, his posture perfectly still.
Around the rings, other villagers sat in various positions. Some were cross-legged like Lyria had demonstrated. Others knelt with their backs straight and hands on their thighs. A few lay flat on their backs, arms at their sides. Each person seemed deep in concentration, their breathing slow and rhythmic.
"Different postures help open different chakras," Lyria whispered, guiding Misaki to an empty spot on the outermost ring. "For beginners, we recommend the seated position. It helps maintain awareness while allowing relaxation."
Misaki lowered himself carefully to the floor, wincing slightly as his healing wound protested. He crossed his legs and placed his hands on his knees, mimicking the posture he'd seen Lyria demonstrate.
"Close your eyes," she instructed softly. "Focus on your breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Let your awareness sink down through your body. Feel for any warmth, any tingling, any sensation that seems out of place. Those are signs of your chakra points."
Misaki closed his eyes and tried to follow her instructions. He focused on his breathing—in, out, in, out. He tried to let his awareness sink through his body like she'd said.
But his mind wouldn't cooperate.
Thoughts kept intruding. Questions about this world, worries about his situation, curiosity about the other meditators, wonder at the temple's architecture, the image of that massive sun hanging low in the sky. Every time he tried to focus on his breathing, another thought would bubble up and drag his attention away.
His eyes snapped open.
He tried again. Closed his eyes, focused on breathing. Managed maybe ten seconds before a new thought intruded and his eyes opened again.
This is harder than it looks.
On his fifth attempt, he managed to keep his eyes closed for nearly a minute. But then he became hyperaware of an itch on his nose, and the temptation to scratch it overwhelmed his concentration.
His eyes opened.
A light tap on the top of his head made him start. The elderly man in white robes—the high priest, Misaki assumed—stood beside him. Up close, the man looked impossibly ancient, with skin like weathered parchment and eyes that held depths of wisdom. But those eyes also held gentle amusement.
"The mind is like a wild horse," the priest said, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying clearly in the quiet temple. "It does not wish to be tamed. Do not fight the thoughts when they come. Acknowledge them, then let them pass like clouds in the sky. Your breathing is the tether. Return to it, again and again, no matter how many times you drift."
Misaki nodded, feeling embarrassed at being singled out.
The priest's hand rested lightly on his head for a moment. "You carry much turmoil, young sky-faller. The path to inner quiet will be long for you. But that is acceptable. All paths begin with a single breath."
The old man moved on, circling the chamber to observe the other meditators. Misaki closed his eyes again and returned his focus to his breathing.
In. Out. In. Out.
A thought about the priest's words arose. He acknowledged it and let it drift away.
In. Out. In. Out.
A question about what he'd eat for his next meal surfaced. He acknowledged it and let it go.
In. Out. In. Out.
Slowly, incrementally, the gaps between thoughts grew longer. His breathing deepened. And for just a moment—barely a heartbeat—he felt something. A warmth in his chest, right at his solar plexus. It flickered like a candle flame in a draft, then vanished.
But it had been there.
[QUEST UPDATE: Survive and Adapt]
[New Objective Unlocked: Begin Spiritual Practice]
[Progress: Meditation Session Completed (1/10)]
Misaki's eyes snapped open at the notification, and the fragile concentration shattered. But for the first time since arriving on Vulcan, he felt genuine hope.
He could do this. It would take time and practice, but he could do this.
He closed his eyes and returned to his breathing, ready to try again.
.