“And the sky? What color is it?”
“The sky has a permanent golden hue caused by high-altitude frozen crystals refracting light. Unlike the white puffy clouds here, Crytharia has ice-clouds—thin, jagged streaks of silver that actually chime when they collide in high-altitude winds.”
“Earth had puffy clouds and one sun, but we only have one moon, not three like here.”
“Crytharia has two suns.”
“Two suns? Really?”
“Yes. There is a Cold Sun, it’s a dim white dwarf and a Warm Sun, which is a smaller red ember. These two suns cause extreme temperature swings from our Cold Season and our Warm Season. Instead of three moons, Crytharia has one giant moon that shattered long ago. It created a ring of glowing ice-rocks that is now a permanent bridge of light across the night sky.”
“That sounds incredibly beautiful, but cold. How do your people survive a cold like that?”
By his hesitation, she could tell that he was having a hard time determining what and how much to reveal about his people. It made sense. She was a stranger and he was far from his home. Trust would not come easy to any of them. She waited patiently, letting him decide what he would reveal.
“During the Cold Season, the most brutal period in Crytharia, the surface becomes uninhabitable due to plummeting temperatures. Very little hunting or plant life is available on the surface. My people retreat into Clan-Settlements carved deep beneath the surface.”
“The underground shelters are built close to the planet’s warm core, which provides the necessary heat for life to persist.We have natural hot springs and fresh water that we use for daily life, cleansing, drinking, cooking, plumbing, and gardening.
“You have gardens underground?” Mara asked, fascinated.
“Yes. We have Bioluminescent Gardens that are grown in geothermal-heated tunnels. The gardens provide food when the surface is locked in ice.”
“My father would love to see how all that works. He is a Professor of Comparative Xeno history and Culture.”
At the confused look on his face, she laughed and continued to explain.
“I guess you don’t have those on your planet.”
“No.”
“It means that he teaches students about the historical development of alien civilizations. Comparisons between past and present societies. How cultures evolve technologically, socially, and politically. Patterns of rise, collapse, stagnation, or adaptation. How ancient decisions shape modern behavior and conflicts.”
“Is this useful to help your people to survive?”
She bit her bottom lip. It may not be useful to his people. Not really. How could she explain this so that he would understand?
“He taught so the next generation wouldn’t have to learn everything the hard way,” Mara said quietly.
She hesitated, then looked at Vaelor, really looked at him. “Did your people ever tell stories about your ancestors? About battles they shouldn’t have fought, or choices that cost too much—so the young would understand what not to repeat?”
Her voice wasn’t challenging. It was curious. Almost hopeful.
He nodded but didn’t elaborate.
“Because that’s all my father was trying to do,” she added. “Different worlds, different species… same mistakes. He believed if we shared the stories, maybe the next generationwould survive them. Maybe they would make a different decision, a better one.”
Vaelor was silent longer than she expected.
“When our young are taught,” he said at last, “we tell them stories of victory.”
He glanced toward the frozen horizon, jaw tightening. “We speak of strength. Of honor. Of battles.”
His gaze returned to her, steady and unflinching. “But the stories that shaped me most were the ones told in private. Quietly. The ones about what went wrong. About leaders who chose pride over restraint.”
He paused.
Mara was surprised at the admission and realized that it cost him more to admit to it than he liked.
