The Arbor descended through Earth's atmosphere, its wooden hull groaning under the pressure. Emma Forrest stood at the helm, palms pressed against the viewport, her hazel eyes shadowed with guilt as she took in the planet below.
Earth was wounded. Deep scars marred its continents, craters a lasting memory of war. Oceans glowed a sickly green from K'tharr radiation, and forests were thin and fragmented, remnants of the Zogarian invasion a decade earlier. The K'tharr had come three years later, carving deeper wounds that festered even after their empire fell.
Emma had led the Seedkeepers to victory—first against the fleets in deep space, then on Khatia, where she had ended Emperor Magzorha. But victory wasn't the same as salvation. The people below had paid the price of war, and now they faced its aftermath alone.
"We shouldn't have come back," Markus muttered, his gray eyes fixed on the broken landscape.
The rest of the team—Chloe, Ethan, Aisha, Gray, Liam, and Maya—stood nearby, silent. The weight of their return pressed down on them all.
"This is our home, Markus," Emma said, forcing steadiness into her voice. "We got distress signals after we took down the fleet—knew Magzorha had left troops here—and still went to Khatia to end him. We owe these people."
Markus clenched his jaw, frustration bleeding into his tone. "You think I don't know that? But we're not just Earth's protectors. The galaxy needs us. We can't afford to get stuck here."
"Emma's right," Chloe countered, stepping forward. "We can't leave them again, Markus. Not after everything they've endured."
Ethan adjusted his gauntlet, his shoulders squared. "Agreed. They need us now more than ever."
Aisha tapped at her scanner, distracted by the atmospheric readings. Gray leaned against the bulkhead, arms crossed. "Fine. Let's get this over with," he said. "The sooner we're done, the sooner we can get back to the real fight."
Liam exhaled, watching the shifting clouds outside the viewport. "We at least need to see what's left. We can't help if we don't understand the damage."
Maya, usually focused on research, finally spoke. "The WoodDust is acting differently here," she murmured, eyes narrowed on the readings. "It's… evolving."
The Arbor settled near the ruins of New York, its roots sinking into the cracked earth with a low groan. The airlock hissed open, and the Seedkeepers stepped onto scorched ground. The scent of damp soil mixed with burnt metal, and despite the devastation, saplings had begun to push through the ruin.
Survivors emerged from a collapsed building—twenty of them, gaunt and wary. A woman stepped forward, gripping a makeshift spear, her face lined with grief and exhaustion.
"You're the Seedkeepers," she said, her voice shaking. "You left us to the K'tharr. My son died in their raids two years ago. He was fourteen. Where were you?"
Emma swallowed, the words cutting deeper than any wound. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "We thought ending Magzorha would stop it. We didn't know how bad it had gotten here."
The woman let the spear fall, her knees giving out beneath her. "He thought you'd save us. He died waiting for you."
Chloe crouched beside her, hands glowing faintly with WoodDust's warmth. "We're here now. We'll help. We'll make this right."
The woman shook her head. "You can't bring him back."
A young boy clung to her arm, his wide eyes flickering between the Seedkeepers. "Are you really here to help?" His voice was small, fragile.
"Yes," Emma said, kneeling. "We're here to stay. Until things get better. I promise."
Other survivors stepped forward, voices overlapping.
"Where were you?"
"Can you stop the raiders?"
"My sister—she's one of the Touched. Can you help her?"
Emma turned toward the riverbank, where the Hudson shimmered under the gray sky, its surface tainted with radiation. She crouched, fingers pressing against the soil. The WoodDust humm beneath her touch—unsteady, restless.
Something felt different.
Like it was calling.
A storm loomed in the distance, violet lightning flashing in the sky. A chill ran through her, deep in her bones.
Something was coming.