Page 8 of Stars in Nova

As if awakening from a dream, she began to move.

The lagoon appeared to answer her unspoken call.

The flow shifted, rolling in sync with the undulations of her arms and legs.

She twirled, her form cutting through the liquid, each movement fluid and precise.

Water spirals lifted from the lake, twisting and arcing above her head before collapsing in gentle splashes.

She leaped, her figure suspended midair for a heartbeat, encircled by floating droplets that caught and refracted the cavern’s illumination.

Her people called itfluidic kinesis, the ability to manipulate water as though it were an extension of themselves.

It was not an unlimited meta force like the powers of others she had seen.

Her gift only worked with water’s inherent power, coaxing it to flow with its natural tendencies. Solid substances—stone, metal, earth—remained impervious to her abilities. But here, engulfed by liquid energy, she was untouchable.

She spun again, her movements becoming a choreography.

Her feet skimmed the lagoon’s surface as a fluid column rose to support her. It lifted her higher, forming a pillar that dissolved when she leaped.

She twisted midair, her arms commanding patterns into the ripples across the lake. The water obeyed, swirling in response to her silent exhortations, creating shapes that disintegrated as fast as they appeared.

Every movement carried a purpose.

Her dance was not mere artistry but an expression of grief and longing. With each leap and dive, memories of her dying home filled her mind.

Her world—at one time a paradise of verdant fountain scapes, cascading waterfalls, and limitless blue horizons—had been reduced to a desolate husk.

The enemy had drained the surface lakes and seas, seeking the gem reservoirs hidden beneath, the sanctuaries of her people.

Her people, the Vaelorii of Orilia XIV, had scattered, and their once vibrant society had diminished to isolated pockets of survivors.

She paused, floating on the lake’s top, her eyes closing as her heart ached.

Whenever she shut her eyes, she was consumed with images of endless fields of cracked earth where there were once lush wetlands, the desiccated bones of creatures that had thrived in her world’s waters.

Crowding her thoughts were the visages of her family, their faces lined with worry as they whispered of survival and retaliation.

Now, so far from her home, she carried the burden of her people’s hopes and quiet despair.

Her mission was clear: bring back the one thing she hoped would save what remained.

Her hand skimmed the water’s surface, sending ripples outward as her mind raced.

She had seenhimearlier, on the streets of Eden II, during the unmitigated attack scene on Saturn Street.

His towering frame, standing well over six and a half feet, had been sculpted with sinewed muscles. They rippled withbarely contained energy, a testament to years spent in battle and rigorous training.

His shoulders were broad, his chest expansive, tapering to a narrow waist and thick, muscular thighs anchoring his formidable presence.

His ebony boots, reinforced with subtle, high-tech enhancements, thudded with each purposeful step.

Hair, jet black and wavy, fell just past his collarbone, framing a chiseled face with sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw.

A scar cut across his left eyebrow, a memento of countless skirmishes.

His almost ethereal, luminous green eyes glowed with the meta-energy coursing through him.

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