Kayvaan's mind reeled as fragments of fotten memories cwed their way to the surface. Valyra. The name felt like a distant echo from a life he’d long since buried. She had once been his kin—a sister from a world long gone. “What happeo you?” His voice cracked with disbelief, tinged with desperation.

  Valyra’s meical face softe least, as much as it could. “It’s a long story, brother. But we have all the time in the world now. Do you remember what you said to me before you left?”

  “I…” Kayvaan faltered, his mind bnk. Ten millennia of war and hardship had erased so much. His childhood memories were shadows at best, buried beh yers of bloodshed and loss.

  “Have you fotten? It’s no surprise if you have—it’s been housand years, after all. But I remember it clearly.” Valyra’s voice carried both warmth and bitterness. “They say when people grow old, they live in their memories. Maybe that’s true. But there are some things I ’t fet, no matter how much I want to.

  "That day, you prepared to leave. I was the one who caught you. I stood at the door and wouldn’t let you pass. You smiled, ruffled my hair, and said, ‘I’ll e back for you. The house is yours until then.’” Her voice faltered before tinuing. “I still feel that warmth on my head, like it just happened yesterday. You told me to wait for you—that’s what you said.”

  Kayvaa a strange, heavy pang in his chest as he listened. His mind painted an image of the past—a little girl, small and fragile, standing barefoot under a pale, indifferent sky. Her thin clothes did nothing against the chill, but she stayed outside, stubboriny hand gripping the edge of his sleeve. “’t you just stay?” her small voice asked.

  The young man looked to the stars, his gaze distant, filled with a longing for something far beyond their small home. He shook his head. “I ’t.”

  “I don’t want you to go, big brother.”

  “I’m not leaving forever,” he assured her, croug to meet her tearful eyes. “I’ll e back, I promise. But until then, the house is yours to watch over. you do that for me?”

  The girl hesitated, sniffling before nodding. “I’ll protect it until you e back, big brother.”

  “Then it’s a promise,” he said, holding out his fist.

  The little girl lifted her own and tapped it against his. “It’s a promise.”

  Kayvaan blinked back to the present, his eyes resting on the meical face before him. Guilt twisted unfortably in his chest. But it wasn’t his guilt to bear, was it? He hadn’t been the one who left his little sister to fend for herself for housand years. Yet a voice within whispered otherwise ‘You carry his name, his body, and his honor. That means his debts are yours as well.’

  Kayvaan took a deep breath, the weight of the name pressing on his shoulders. After a long pause, he exhaled heavily, his resolve clear. “I’ve fought in tless wars, faced horrors ah for causes greater than I uood. But those are excuses. I fot the promise I made. I broke my word.” He looked up, meeting Valyra’s glowing eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Valyra replied, her voice free of rese. Her metallic eyelids lowered briefly, a faint shimmer passing through them. “You came back. That’s all that matters.”

  The tenderness in her words struething deep within Kayvaan, and for a moment, he nearly let his emotions overtake him. He forced a faint, rueful smile. “How have you managed all this time?” he asked quietly.

  “What choice did I have?” Valyra’s tone was soft, almost fragile. “After you left, the family faced... challenges. I took over, but it wasn’t enough. Later, I found I couldn’t have children. Without an heir, the family’s purpose was at risk. Adoption wasn’t an option. So I turo other means to ensure we endured.” Her voice faltered, then steadied. “At first, I g to hope you’d return soon. But as years turo turies, hope became ahen exhaustion.”

  “Why push yourself so far?” Kayvaan asked, his gaze shifting to the enormous mae that encased her. “The family name... it’s just a ’s not worth this.”

  “You don’t uand,” Valyra said firmly. “You left when you were still young. You never learned what we are. If we were just another noble house, yes, it wouldn’t matter if we vanished. Even suns fade. But our family is different, Kayvaan. We are guardians. We safeguard the fme.”

  “The fme?” Kayvaan frowned. “What fme?”

  “The fme of humanity,” Valyra said solemnly. “It’s the STC.”

  Kayvaan’s brow furrowed. “STean a Standard Tempte struct?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “But not the fragments and corrupted blueprints the Meicus covets. What we have is something... else.”

  Kayvaan’s breath caught. “How else?”

  “It’s plete,” Valyra said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Pristine. Untouched, as if the Dark Age never ended.”

  Kayvaa his heart sink. If what she cimed was true, then the Kayvaan family hadn’t been guarding treasure—they were hiding a relic of unthinkable power. A relic that could ge or doom the Imperium forever. “But even the Meicus doesn’t see STCs as threats to humanity’s survival,” he said cautiously.

  “They’ve never seen one as perfect as this,” Valyra replied, her voice grave. “Listen to me, Kayvaan. This isn’t just an heirloom. It’s a secret that could reshape the gaxy. If it fell into the wrong hands, it wouldn’t just be us—it would end the Imperium as we know it.”

  In the Golden Age of Mankind, humanity reached heights of teological and cultural prowess that bordered on the miraculous. They mastered ielr travel, navigating the treacherous dimensions of the , and began izing the vast expanse of the gaxy. But for the brave ists stepping onto unfamiliar ps, the universe was not only full of awe-inspiring wonders but also unpreted dangers.

  On these new worlds, the forts of Terra were a distant dream. ists couldn’t simply rely on supplies from their homeworld—they had to fend for themselves. Imagine needing something as simple as a taio hold water. It would o be funal, durable, and ideally, aesthetically pleasing. On Terra, such a thing could be picked up for mere pennies. But on a newly established y, shipping a batch ile ceramics across the stars was out of the question.

  This posed a pressing challenge: how would ists make what they ake ceramics as an example. Firing to usable shapes is an a craft, but by the Golde had bee a niche skill. People were fluent in multiple nguages, capable of repairing advaools, and deeply knowledgeable about space travel or human biology. But how many could say they knew how to make a simple ceramic cup? Even on 21st-tury Terra, very few people—apart from specialists—would have that knowledge. Division of bor had long since rendered such skills unnecessary in daily life.

  And ceramics were just the beginning. What about cutting wood for stru? Logging is a hazardous job that even trained workers hah caution. How about fishing? Building houses? Produg t? Every step of life’s basiecessities required skills most ists simply didn’t have. On Terra, these items were odities taken franted. On alien worlds, they were treasures. The only viable solution was to produce these goods locally—but how?