The night at the Lunareens’ base was never fully dark.
Even in the "dark hour," the glowing lagoon shimred like spilled starlight, and the faint hum of ocean magic pulsed beneath the mossy ground.
Isabella sat cross-legged near the water’s edge, Glimora curled up on her lap like a sleepy ball of fur. The creature’s soft breathing made a rhythmic purr against her thigh, a small comfort in a place that didn’t quite feel safe, but didn’t quite feel dangerous anymore either.
She hadn’t spoken to Bubu in days—or maybe hours. Ti passed strangely on this mountain. One minute felt like ten, and ten minutes could slip into a dream. All she knew was that she was done talking to that glowing little nace.
She took another bite from one of the blue fruits she’d picked earlier. The taste was strange—sweet at first, then bitter, then weirdly tallic at the end. It left a tingle on her tongue that made her eyes water a little.
She swallowed anyway.
Her stomach growled again.
"Ugh, you’ve got to be kidding ," she muttered, glaring down at it. "I’ve eaten three of these weird alien apples already. How hungry do you plan to be? You’re not even born yet."
Glimora lifted her tiny head and chirped softly. Isabella sighed. "Don’t look at like that. I wasn’t talking to you."
Silence answered her. Then, finally, she gave up her quiet protest. "Fine," she said to the air, rubbing her temples. "It’s the dark hour already, isn’t it?"
Bubu’s holographic screen blinked into view a few feet away, faint light illuminating Isabella’s face.
"Yes, host," ca the calm, robotic—but faintly smug—reply.
Isabella pressed her lips together. "Right."
A mont passed. The kind of mont that felt too full, too empty.
"So," she began again, voice tight but controlled, "we set out early tomorrow to start hunting for ingredients, right?"
"Yes, we do," Bubu answered imdiately, tone polite, efficient—almost as if nothing was wrong.
"Good." Isabella nodded, brushing her hair back, trying to sound businesslike, mature, over-it. "Because I also want to start cultivating while I’m here."
There was a small pause. Then: "That is not the best idea right now," Bubu said, and the faint hum in its voice dropped an octave. "Because you have a life in you, host. Cultivating while pregnant will be—"
"I’m not asking you if it’ll be quite hard," Isabella snapped, cutting it off mid-sentence. "I said I want to start cultivating. Now."
Silence. Even the lagoon seed to quiet down for a mont, the faint whisper of water slowing like it didn’t want to get caught in the middle of this argunt.
"...Understood," Bubu finally said. "If that is what you want, we will start with little tasks then. A gentle initiation. Later."
"Good." Isabella crossed her arms, exhaling like she’d just won a war. "Later."
But even as she said it, guilt nipped faintly at the edge of her chest.
It wasn’t Bubu’s fault. Not really.
Still—she wasn’t about to say that out loud.
The screen flickered softly beside her, waiting for her to say sothing else, but Isabella ignored it.
Instead, she reached toward the air and whispered, "System shop—open."s
Instantly, a holographic nu unfolded in front of her, glittering text and icons spinning in the cool air. Her tired eyes scanned through the categories: Weapons, Skills, Potions, Lifestyle.
She clicked on Lifestyle.
The first item made her snort.
Foldable Camp Tent — 860 points.
Description: "A portable shelter that unfolds in seconds. Includes temperature control, mosquito shield, and soft bedding. Perfect for adventures!"
"Eight hundred and sixty points?" Isabella repeated incredulously. "What, does it also cook breakfast and sing lullabies?"
She wanted to rant more, but then rembered she had promised herself not to talk to Bubu. So instead, she just glared at the screen like it personally offended her.
She hit "Purchase."
A soft ding chid in the air.
Her points decreased instantly.
"Great," she muttered, rubbing her forehead. "Goodbye, savings. It was nice knowing you."
A mont later, the air in front of her shimred, and with a faint whoosh, the tent appeared—folded neatly, no bigger than a bread loaf.
She unfolded it experintally. In seconds, it expanded to a full tent, white with faint gold embroidery that shimred under the moonlight. The entrance flap fluttered softly, like the tent itself was alive and proud to exist.
Inside, the interior glowed faintly warm. There was a small pillow, a thin blanket, and even a little shelf attached to the side with what looked like small bottles of oil and herbs. It was cozy—almost suspiciously so.
"Well," Isabella muttered, hands on her hips. "At least my overpriced tent is pretty."
Bubu’s screen floated near the entrance, flickering as if hesitant to say sothing.
"I don’t even know why she chooses to be mad at ," it finally said in a small voice, before flickering and vanishing.
"Good!" Isabella snapped after the empty air. "Stay gone!"
Glimora tilted her head at her, blinking big innocent eyes. Isabella sighed, rubbing her face. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m being petty. Let be petty in peace."
She crouched near the tent and started setting up the little things it ca with. A roll-up mat, so kind of glowing pebble lamp, even a water container that filled itself from the mist. The air slled faintly of sea salt and lilies—the Lunareens’ scent, lingering in everything.
Every so often, she heard soft splashes from the lagoon, followed by distant giggles. The serpent-won were probably weaving their hair again, their laughter echoing like silver bells. It was oddly comforting. Beautiful, in a way that made her skin crawl.
She tied back her hair and exhaled, brushing off dirt from her hands. "There. Done."
The tent glowed faintly behind her, soft and inviting. Glimora made a tiny yawn sound, curling up in her palm. Isabella smiled despite herself.
"Yeah, yeah, bedti, I get it," she said softly.
She crawled inside the tent. The air inside was warm and slled faintly of clean grass. She sank onto the small mat, placing Glimora beside her. The creature imdiately burrowed into the blanket like a spoiled pet. Isabella chuckled quietly, lying down on her side.
Her eyes wandered over the ceiling of the tent. It shimred faintly, showing a projected sky—the illusion of gentle moving stars. The designers of this tent clearly thought of everything.
She sighed. "I hate how nice this is."
For a while, she just lay there, listening to the faint trickle of water outside, the occasional low hum of the Lunareens singing sowhere in the lagoon. Their lody was haunting and soft, like a lullaby from another world.
Her hand drifted to her stomach without aning to.
She froze.
She didn’t feel anything yet—not really—but knowing what was there made her chest tighten.
A life in her.
She still didn’t know how to feel about that.
She hated the thought. Loved it. Feared it. All at once.
Her throat tightened. "You better not make emotional," she whispered under her breath, glaring weakly at Glimora.
Glimora chirped sleepily, already half-asleep. Isabella smiled, faint and tired.
"Yeah," she murmured, her voice growing softer. "Sleep’s a good idea."
She reached over and turned off the tent’s inner glow. Only the faint shimr from outside spilled in—blue and silver, moving gently like the tide.
Her eyelids grew heavy.
But before drifting off, she mumbled, "Tomorrow... I’ll start everything. The hunting. The cultivation. The... whatever."
The tent was warm. Glimora’s breathing was steady. The world outside humd quietly.
For the first ti since arriving on the mountain, Isabella felt sothing close to peace—fragile, small, but real.
And as she finally slipped into sleep, a faint whisper flickered through the tent’s soft air, almost too quiet to notice.
"Goodnight, host," Bubu’s voice said gently, its light flickering once outside before fading away completely.
Isabella didn’t hear it. But if she had, she might have smiled.
Because for all her anger, for all her exhaustion—she knew she wasn’t truly alone.
Not yet.
User Comments
0 comments from readers