Xi Mano, representative of the proud and disciplined Xi people, is an alien of fascinating appearance, radiating undeniable presence. Her shimmering skin, dappled with glittering reflections, evokes liquid metal streaked with starlight. Her elongated, finely sculpted face bears large, deep eyes filled with ancient wisdom and a warm benevolence.

  Xi Mano stands with the poise of a host receiving a dear friend. Her gaze, though piercing, does not judge—it explores with curiosity and respect. Her demeanor reveals an innate discipline, a hallmark of the Xi, yet never devoid of empathy. When she inclines her head slightly in welcome, a sense of serenity emanates from her, dissolving any barrier between her and her human guest.

  Her subtle smile, barely sketched on her lips, expresses a rare sincerity and an openness that transcends the boundaries of their two worlds.

  Her visitor, a woman from Sol, possesses a captivating beauty and a natural charisma that commands respect. Her dark eyes, filled with intelligence and curiosity, seem to scan the world with sharp insight, evidence of her keen mind and honed perception. Her dark hair, touched with golden highlights and gently wavy, frames her face with fluid elegance.

  She wears a sleek black suit, sculpted in design, fitting her form with near-biomechanical precision—a symbol of the union between human boldness and the adaptability of an interstellar explorer.

  Xi Mano is immediately struck—not merely by her beauty or presence, but by the reputation that precedes her across the Imperium. She is known for her unwavering courage and subtle intellect, capable of solving riddles even the oldest races struggle to comprehend. Though different, the two beings share mutual esteem born from their achievements and a rare understanding of one another.

  As the Terran enters the grand reception hall, Xi Mano welcomes her with the ceremonial grandeur of her people, lifting one arm in an elegant gesture before speaking warmly:

  “Lady Jennel of Sol, starborn traveler and light of your people, be honored among us.”

  An amused yet genuine smile brightens Jennel’s face. Unimpressed by formalities, she inclines her head in return and replies in a soft but confident voice:

  “Jennel will do, Xi Mano. Between us, simplicity seems more pleasant.”

  Xi Mano bows her head gracefully, understanding that this woman, for all her greatness, prefers honesty to ceremony. The protocolal distance between them vanishes in an instant, replaced by a sincere friendship that promises to bridge worlds.

  As Jennel and Xi Mano step away from the gathering of Xi, the Terran gives a final polite nod to their hosts before following her friend onto a vast terrace that opens onto a breathtaking landscape.

  Before them lies a mist-veiled valley, bathed in spectral light under the glow of an opalescent moon. The sky is laden with heavy, tormented clouds, from which delicate trails of rain fall, caressing the earth in solemn silence. Jagged mountains rise in the distance, their black silhouettes outlined in the mist that coils around their peaks. Steep cliffs cloaked in dense vegetation rise majestically, like the ramparts of a forgotten world.

  Below, a mirror-like expanse of water reflects the moonlight, its surface rippled by the falling rain, drawing countless fleeting circles. The lake, surrounded by thick, mysterious forests, seems alive, pulsing with ancestral energy. Small lights—perhaps bioluminescent creatures or the reflections of hidden stars—drift softly across the surface, adding an unreal touch to the scene.

  Along the shoreline, barely visible in the dim light, silhouettes move—some with arms raised skyward as if in incantation, others kneeling by the water, absorbed in a ritual task. Their gestures are calm, almost ceremonial, suggesting a profound bond with this mystical environment.

  Jennel breathes deeply, letting the damp freshness fill her lungs. A shiver runs through her—not from cold, but from true admiration for the grandeur before her. She turns to Xi Mano, her eyes shining with renewed wonder:

  “It’s magnificent. Your world has a wild beauty that few places in the Imperium can match. And you’ve managed to breathe life back into it.”

  Xi Mano smiles proudly, her gaze drifting over the shimmering expanse.

  “We call this place the Sapphire Sea. It is ancient—older than memory—and it watches over us as much as we now watch over it.”

  The two friends remain there, silent for a moment, savoring the poetry of a landscape suspended between dream and reality.

  Still gazing at the horizon, Xi Mano draws a deep breath before leaning slightly toward Jennel. Her attentive gaze reveals both sincere affection and a touch of curiosity.

  “I’m honored by your visit, Jennel, and I thank you for making the journey. But tell me—what made your coming so urgent?”

  Jennel takes a slight breath, as if to gather her thoughts.

  “Two reasons, Xi Mano. The first is official.”

  She pauses, then continues in a graver tone.

  “I’m concerned about something my husband, Alan, keeps bringing up. Tension is beginning to grow between the Survivors of old—people like you and me, who no longer age thanks to the nanites—and the new generations of humans, still mortal and vulnerable. These microorganisms, born of alien technology forced upon us, gave us immortality—but now they’re creating a divide with those who don’t carry them. The Council of Ten has asked me to assess the situation across the Confederation's planets. So I’ve begun a round of inspections.”

  Xi Mano nods slowly, her gaze hardening slightly. She understands the weight of such a matter, but waits for Jennel to go on.

  “And the second reason?” she finally asks.

  Jennel hesitates for a fraction of a second, then answers in a softer, almost troubled voice.

  “I have a small health concern.”

  Xi Mano raises her brows slightly, clearly surprised.

  “A health concern? That’s not possible… The nanites prevent that. None of us have known illness since their implantation.”

  Jennel looks away for a moment, as if weighing her words.

  “I know. And yet… I’ve been suffering frequent migraines, with occasional visual disturbances.”

  Xi Mano observes her carefully before asking in a more measured tone:

  “Have you told Alan?”

  Jennel gently shakes her head.

  “No. I didn’t want to worry him. But I’m starting to fear the nanites are losing their effectiveness.”

  Xi Mano falls silent for a few seconds, thinking.

  “I’ve never heard of such a case here on Xi.”

  Jennel nods, her gaze pensive.

  “Nor have I on Earth. I’ve spoken to a few contacts there—none of them reported anything similar…”

  A heavy silence settles between them, charged with a new gravity. For the first time in decades, a shadow looms over the promise of eternity that was never truly theirs to choose.

  “Then tell me the truth, Jennel. Why did you choose to come to Xi?” asks Xi Mano, her piercing gaze meeting her friend’s.

  “I want to undergo a medical examination here. Your people possess knowledge far beyond ours, and I believe your equipment might help me understand what’s happening inside me,” Jennel replies in a slightly lower voice, as if revealing a secret to no one else.

  “We have to know where to look, Jennel. Just because our technology is advanced doesn’t mean we can see the invisible,” Xi Mano replies, raising a brow in intrigue.

  “I think I know where to look. Do you remember my expedition to Ieya?”

  “Ieya… The cursed planet—the one where time doesn’t follow its own laws? Yes, of course. What are you getting at?”

  “I was exposed to the energy of a phantom time loop. We believed it had no effect on me in the present. But if I’m experiencing these symptoms now… maybe it’s a delayed consequence affecting the nanites. Perhaps the nanites themselves have temporal properties we still don’t understand,” Jennel explains, arms crossed, her gaze drifting to the misty horizon.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Jennel… If this truly stems from the loop, we have no idea what the consequences might be.”

  “There weren’t supposed to be any—as long as I didn’t return to Ieya,” Jennel states, trying to convince herself.

  “Perhaps. But our laboratories can’t detect time fluxes. That science still escapes us,” Xi Mano reflects aloud after a moment.

  “What if it’s not just a temporal flux? Time anomalies often have quantum repercussions. Maybe your sensors could detect the side effects,” Jennel suggests, her mind already seeking another approach.

  “You mean if your body is undergoing quantum-level fluctuations, we could measure them? That’s… a lead,” Xi Mano concedes, thoughtful, now folding her arms in turn.

  “Then let’s start there,” Jennel concludes with a faint smile.

  “Very well, Jennel. Let’s see how far we can go,” replies Xi Mano.

  The young woman leaves the grand holographic hall of Arw's prestigious University of Xenosociology, still resonating with the echoes of applause.

  She smiles, discreet and serene, at these signs of enthusiasm. Brilliant, as always.

  At thirty, she is already counted among the most respected minds in her field—a fact her peers are never slow to emphasize. Perhaps she knows it, but she doesn't dwell on it. She is a field researcher, raised from childhood in her Terran family to observe, question, understand.

  In this Arwian society—codified and hierarchical—where every gesture is measured against the standard of perfection, she knows that her position as an extra-Arwian leaves no room for error. Here, excellence is praised with fervor, but mediocrity is quietly scorned with ruthless elegance. Yet she moves forward with disarming simplicity.

  She walks the university's suspended aerial pathways—long translucent bridges floating between the organic towers of the campus—as if she had always known them. Students of various species, in myriad shapes and hues, greet her with respect. Some do so out of scientific admiration, others send her a charming smile, drawn to her discreet grace and unique presence. Her short, dark hair—nearly black—contrasts with the translucent, flowing locks of Arwian women. Her allure is undeniable, almost magnetic. But her heart? A mystery. No known connection, no persistent rumor.

  As she reaches a fork between two access platforms, her temporal communicator vibrates with a crystalline chime. She stops, frowns slightly, and tilts her head to hear the audio message that automatically plays. Her hand brushes the small crystal embedded in her right ear. The message is brief but urgent. Her posture barely shifts, but a new spark lights in her eyes.

  With a brisk yet measured pace, she leaves the main walkways and heads toward a more discreet area of the university. From there, she sees the rows of personal shuttles parked beneath protective domes. Her shuttle awaits—sleek and elegant, like her.

  An hour later, having gathered what she needs for a journey that may last several days—adaptive suits, linguistic modules, field probes, personal replicator, and of course her digital research logs—she pilots her shuttle to Arw’s central astroport. The place where great crossings begin.

  Arw’s central astroport stands as a technological jewel just beyond the capital of the Imperium. It is one of the largest and busiest in the known galaxy. Surrounded by vast glowing arches, it pulses with the constant flow of ships arriving from all corners of Arwian space, and even from the fringes of extra-imperial territories.

  Orbital corridors organize with surgical precision the traffic of commercial cruisers, diplomatic shuttles, patrol frigates, and also scientific and academic vessels. Activity here is continuous, governed by a conscious central AI named Aenor, capable of processing millions of spatiotemporal parameters simultaneously.

  The interior of the astroport reflects the Imperium's grandeur: vast halls adorned with moving holograms of the Federation’s great planets, translucent domes revealing the stars, and a diversity of species coexisting in a permanent cultural ballet. Announcements echo in countless languages, while automated customs scan the biomolecular identities of travelers.

  For the Empire’s citizens, this place is more than a transit hub. It is a symbol of power, of connection, and of openness.

  The young woman enters with calm, well-versed in procedure. Her research accreditation badge—and more importantly, her name—grants her access to restricted areas. Around her, the universe hums with ambition, diplomatic secrets, and departures into the unknown.

  “Fatigue is starting to weigh on you, Jennel,” murmurs Xi Mano as her friend gazes out over the lake in silence.

  Jennel nods, discreetly massaging her temples. The tests revealed nothing, and the nanites—meant to be infallible—seem powerless against her symptoms. The migraines persist. Her vision, at times, blurs. It’s becoming unbearable.

  “I think I’ll end the tour,” she finally admits.

  Xi Mano doesn’t answer immediately. She respects the gravity of such a decision.

  “And will you hand the mission off to someone?”

  “Yes. I need someone as skilled as I am in understanding interspecies relations.”

  Jennel smirks. The choice came easily, though it brings a slight discomfort. But necessity prevails.

  She now waits for her replacement at the edge of the lake, beneath the last remnants of a stormy sky. The rain has eased for several hours, as has her latest migraine. She glances toward the stone path leading to Xi Mano’s residence.

  A silhouette appears, walking with purpose. Short jet-black hair, a dazzling smile on her lips. Jennel muses, not without amusement, that she always thought this young woman would make quite the figure… and indeed, she is one of the finest exosociology experts in the Confederation.

  Jade of Sol walks the last few meters with a light step.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  Jennel stifles an amused sigh. Jade hasn’t changed—cheerful, spirited.

  “Aunt Xi kept a secret from me, but she’s terrible at it. Why did Her Highness summon me?”

  Jennel raises an eyebrow. Jade and her complete disregard for protocol… She calls Xi Mano, former President of the Confederation, “Aunt Xi”—a total violation of Xi cultural decorum. And her own mother, High Representative of the Confederation, “Her Highness.”

  Jennel inhales deeply before replying, a smile on her lips.

  “Because I need you, Jade.”

  Jade is thrilled by the assignment. She has no trouble grasping the issue of coexisting with the Survivors—she's concerned. She asks which planet will be next on the itinerary.

  “The Zirkis?” exclaims Jade with an enthusiastic smile. “What a perfect destination to start!”

  Jennel smiles faintly. Of course her daughter would be pleased. While most humans shudder at the thought of encountering these massive creatures, Jade finds them fascinating.

  “You’ve never been afraid of them,” Jennel notes.

  “Why would I be?” replies Jade, shrugging. “They’re impressive, yes—but their sense of honor and tradition is unlike anything else in the Confederation.”

  Jennel still remembers the fearless little girl who once clambered without hesitation onto the towering chitinous limbs of a Zirkis, to her mother’s horror. But none of them would have dared harm her. She’s the daughter of the Grand Admiral.

  “I’ll handle them gladly,” Jade assures her. “But what about you—why are you cutting your tour short?”

  Jennel hesitates, then decides to speak plainly.

  “I’m not feeling well. Migraines, blurred vision. The nanites don’t seem to help, and the tests here on Xi revealed nothing.”

  Jade frowns, her smile fading slightly.

  “Mom… you should go back to Earth.”

  “I’m not there yet,” Jennel replies, looking away.

  “Yes, you are. Go see Dad.”

  Jennel opens her mouth to protest, but thinks better of it. Jade is right. Alan has to know. And if there’s anyone who might help her understand what’s happening to her, it’s him.

  Alan doesn’t know what to do. Jennel returned from the planet Xi and told him about her health issues. Since then, they’ve only worsened. The migraines have grown more intense, and sudden bouts of dizziness now come with abrupt losses of vision. He’s begun to consider traveling to Ieya, hoping to consult the Thinkers there. But what about Jennel?

  She is forbidden to approach Ieya since her return from the planet’s past.

  For medical reasons.

  And yet, Alan is convinced. Something about her condition is connected to what happened there.

  Jennel is resting in the upstairs bedroom of the villa, while Alan remains on the balcony, gazing out at the rocky coastline and the small beach below. The waves, dark and restless, crash against the rocks, leaving behind a trail of white foam that vanishes as quickly as it comes. The sea wind blows in bursts, carrying the briny scent of the ocean and the distant cries of gulls gliding over the troubled waters. The sky is a heavy gray, thick with low clouds that seem to press against the horizon, mirroring the weight of Alan’s thoughts.

  A voice echoes from the entrance. It’s Ambre, his younger daughter. Tall, with long light-brown hair, she appears shy at first glance, but Alan knows better. She’s strong, unshakable. Concerned, she’s come for news. Beside her stands her partner. Both are botanists and chose to settle nearby with their two children—a boy and a girl.

  Ambre steps into the room and approaches her father.

  “Dad, how’s Mom?” she asks softly, her voice laced with worry.

  Alan sighs and runs a hand across his weary face.

  “Not well. The migraines are getting worse. She’s dizzy, losing vision. I’m out of ideas.”

  Ambre’s companion, a man with a kind presence and a reassuring smile, speaks up. He has always been a quiet but steadfast support for her. His natural curiosity often led him to ask questions about Ambre’s parents—figures who had always seemed almost mythical to him.

  “Have you thought about speaking with the Thinkers on Ieya? They might have an explanation.”

  Alan nods slowly.

  “I’ve thought of that. But Jennel can’t go. She’s forbidden from setting foot there. And I won’t leave her alone here.”

  Ambre gently places a hand on her father’s arm.

  “Then let her come stay with us. She’ll be well looked after—and... she could spend some time with the kids. They’d love to see her.”

  A faint smile crosses Alan’s face, a flicker of hope lighting his tired gaze.

  “Jennel, a grandmother... I don’t know if she sees herself that way. But maybe... maybe it would do her some good.”

  Ambre smiles in return.

  “Let me talk to her. I’m sure she’ll agree.”

  Alan nods, relieved he doesn’t have to be the one to make the suggestion. He knows Ambre will find the right words.