Emma stood at the clearing's edge near the Hudson, her K'tharr blade sheathed, the WoodDust within it glowing faintly. The survivors huddled near the Arbor, their whispers threading between fear and fragile hope. The storm on the horizon pressed closer, violet lightning flickering against heavy clouds. The hum in the soil beneath her feet grew louder, pulsing in rhythm with the storm's wail, sending an unsettling tremor through her bones.
"We need to talk," Markus said, approaching with hard, measured steps, his voice sharp. "We shouldn't be here. The K'tharr are done—we ended Magzorha on Khatia. But there are bigger threats out there. I intercepted deep-space transmissions—signals from beyond our system."
Emma turned to face him, her expression unreadable.
"The Void Rangers are mobilizing," Markus continued. "And there's evidence of the Quantum Schism at the solar system's edge. We can't stay here playing saviors while the galaxy falls apart."
"This is our home, Markus," Emma replied, her voice quiet but unwavering. "We left it to the K'tharr for years. We got the distress signals after we beat their fleet—knew Magzorha sent troops here—and we still chose Khatia. We owe these people."
"You think I don't know that?" Markus snapped. His frustration cracked through his steady demeanor. "But the K'tharr's defeat sent ripples through the cosmos. Earth is vulnerable. The WoodDust—it's a beacon. If we stay here too long, the Void Rangers or the Quantum Schism will make Earth their next battleground."
Emma's hands curled into fists.
"They're suffering now, Markus. I won't abandon them."
Markus exhaled, his voice lowering. "If we don't leave soon, there might not be an Earth left to save."
Before Emma could reply, another voice cut through the tension.
"If you're not here to help, then why come back at all?"
A man approached—early thirties, dark hair cut short, piercing blue eyes shadowed with exhaustion. His clothes were patched but clean, his hands stained with engine grease, a satchel slung over his shoulder.
Emma turned, studying him. "Who are you?"
"Lucas Ardain," he said, stopping a few feet away. "I've been leading a research team in New York's ruins, studying K'tharr tech. We've held things together while you were out there, fighting wars."
"We're here now," Emma said, locking eyes with him. "We'll help deal with the K'tharr remnants, the chaos they left—whatever it takes to get Earth back on its feet."
Lucas scoffed. "You think you can just swoop in and fix everything? We've been surviving without you for years. We don't need saviors. We need partners."
Emma didn't flinch. "I meant what I said. We're here to work with you, not over you."
Lucas studied her, then nodded. "If you're serious, find me at the research outpost in the subway tunnels. We could use your expertise." His gaze lingered on her blade, the faint glow of WoodDust reflecting in his eyes before he turned and walked away.
Markus let out a tense breath. "This is exactly what I mean. We're playing catch-up here while the galaxy burns."
Emma ignored him, watching Lucas kneel beside the grieving woman, his hand steady on her shoulder. Survivors clung to each other, their eyes darting between the Seedkeepers, weighing trust against years of absence.
The WoodDust's hum grew louder, an unseen pulse rolling beneath her fingertips. The storm thickened, violet lightning streaking across the sky.
Something was coming.