"And there—" Her hand moves, indicating a series of dramatic cliffs that drop away into shadowed canyons. "The Au'rignis Bluffs. The stone changes color with the light. At sunset, they look like they're on fire."
"Perhaps someday we could go," I say without thinking. "When things are settled. You could show me."
A'Vanti is quiet for a moment. Then, so soft I almost miss it: "I would like that."
The ship continues its approach, and A'Vanti keeps pointing out landmarks: cities that appear as geometric clusters against the golden sand, small bodies of water that glint in the sunlight, sacred sites and historical monuments visible even from this altitude. Her voice steadies as she talks, gaining strength. These are her people's achievements, history, and legacy.
Diamalla tried to destroy all of it. But it's still here. Wounded and empty but still standing.
I know from the briefings that we're heading to the capital city. Najara was once the largest population center on the planet, where most of the governmental structures remain intact even though the people who once filled them are gone. Our landing site is an old military base on the city's edge. It was chosen for its reinforced landing pads and proximity to the infrastructure we'll need to restore.
In the months before our arrival, robots gathered the fallen, every single one, and carried them deep into the cavern system beneath Spire Mountain, where Cerasteans have been laid to rest for millennia. Countless generations sleeping in the dark, now joined by every soul who never made it off the planet's surface.
It's almost impossible to wrap my head around it. The scale of it all. An entire civilization, reduced to a handful of survivors and an empty, abandoned planet.
My chest constricts, the familiar clench that happens when grief gets too close. The kind I've gotten very good at folding up and putting away.
I lock it down and push it away. Right now, I need to focus on A'Vanti. All I have to do is be here for her.
The capital city comes into view as we begin our descent, and I pull A'Vanti a little closer without thinking.
It's massive. Even from our current altitude, I can tell the scale is unlike anything I've seen on Earth. There are towers that stretch toward the sky like grasping fingers, connected by sweeping bridges and elevated walkways. The architecture is all clean lines and flowing curves, organic shapes that seem to have grown from the desert itself rather than being built upon it. Everything is rendered in shades of gold and amber and pale cream, the same colors as the sand that surrounds it, so that the city almost seems to shimmer and blend with the landscape.
I can see what the reports I reviewed said is the city's main water reclamation system, a massive structure with pipes and channels leading out into the desert. There are gardens too, or what were once gardens, now withered and empty without the irrigation systems to sustain them. The streets are wide and empty, pale paths winding between silent buildings.
And it's empty.
That's what hits me hardest. All of this incredible achievement, this testament to what the Cerastean people built, and there's no one moving through those streets. No one is living in the countless homes and working in all those buildings. It's a city meant to bustle with life, sitting silent and still as a tomb.
From a distance, it almost looks pristine and untouched. But as the ship descends, the cracks begin to show. There are shattered windows and crumbling facades. Walkways that have buckled and fallen. Sand has crept into every doorway, piledalong every wall, slowly swallowing what was left behind. A decade of abandonment written in every broken thing.
"It's incredible," I say, because A'Vanti deserves to hear it. Because her people deserve to have their accomplishments recognized, even amid this tragedy. "A'Vanti, this is… I don't have words."
"It was more, once." Her voice is steady, but I can feel her shaking. "The streets were full. The markets were loud. Children played in the courtyards." A pause. "Now there's nothing."
"Not for much longer." I tighten my arms around her. "That's why we're here, right? To bring it back?"
She doesn't answer. But her hand on my arm squeezes once.
The descent is slow and careful. Buildings rise around us as we drop lower, their empty windows watching our arrival. We're heading for a military base on the edge of the capital. As we approach, I spot a massive hangar with its bay doors standing wide open. Left that way, I realize with a chill, because the people who would have closed them never got the chance.
L'Tarne guides the ship through the opening and sets us down inside, the hangar walls offering shelter from the worst of the sun and wind. Dust swirls in our wake, disturbed for the first time in years.
D'Rett reviews his tablet and announces. "The drone's scans are complete. Air quality is within normal parameters. Radiation levels nominal. No structural hazards detected in the landing zone." He looks up, his expression carefully neutral, but I can see the emotion flickering in his eyes. "It's safe. We can debark."
A ragged cheer goes up at D'Rett's announcement. As L'Tarne directs everyone to head to the exit ramp, the bridge fills with excited, nervous chatter. We're here. After months of planning and almost a week of travel, we're finally here.
A'Vanti pulls away from me, and I let her go reluctantly.
But as we join the flow of people heading for the off-ramp, I see that she's shaking. Her hands are clenched at her sides, her jaw tight, her whole body vibrating with the effort of holding herself together.
I don't ask permission. I reach over and lace my fingers through hers, holding on tight. Then I tuck her into my side, under my arm, sheltering her with my body as best I can.
She lets out a breath, shaky and uneven, but she doesn't pull away. If anything, she leans into me.
The off-ramp looms ahead, the massive doors still sealed. People are jostling for position, everyone eager to set foot on Ceraste.
Before we can get far, L'Tarne intercepts us. His arms are full of neatly folded fabric and eyewear. He presses a set into my hands. Looking at the items, I see a lightweight face wrap and a pair of tinted goggles, both clearly Cerastean design. Elegant and efficient, like everything else they make.
