The Quiet After the Storm
Station Hallowspire floated silent once more,
adrift between the fractured remnants of Verdan's Grave's gravity.
Inside the battered ruins of the command core,
the Dawnbreakers gathered around the last working holo-table —
its flickering blue light casting long shadows across the room.
Plo sat cross-legged on the table itself, a data pad in one hand, Drex curled protectively around her.
Zaraya lounged nearby, one foot propped on a fallen beam, cosmic light pulsing gently from her hands.
Kaelen leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, always watching, always silent.
Jaxen was tinkering with a damaged turret, muttering curses under his breath.
And Iselyra — still traveling under the name "Ilyse" — sat a little apart, sharpening Frostbrand methodically.
⸻
Plo's Decision
Plo cleared her throat, setting the pad aside.
"So…" she said, voice bright. "I've decided something."
Everyone looked at her.
Drex let out a small, encouraging bark.
"You're all fascinating," Plo said bluntly, waving a hand. "Scientifically and otherwise.
Your energy patterns, your combat styles, your cosmic signatures… fascinating."
Zaraya grinned.
"You like us."
"I am… interested," Plo corrected primly.
"And thus, for the sake of advancing my research into multiversal phenomena,
I have decided to stay with you. Until further notice."
Jaxen gave a low whistle.
"Hear that? We're a lab experiment now."
Kaelen gave a faint, sardonic smile.
"We always were."
Plo beamed proudly, as if she hadn't just called them walking research projects.
Zaraya laughed and ruffled her hair —
which Plo tolerated with royal dignity for about two seconds before huffing and teleporting herself onto Drex's back.
Drex rumbled happily and carried her in a small, lazy circle.
⸻
The Frostborne's Silent Oath
Later, as the others patched wounds and scavenged supplies,
Iselyra stood at one of the broken windows, staring out into the void.
The stars burned cold beyond the shattered glass.
Kaelen approached her, silent as always.
They stood side by side for a moment.
No words.
Just understanding.
Finally, Kaelen spoke — soft and low:
"You're not what you pretend to be."
Iselyra smiled faintly — a sharp, sad thing.
"Neither are you."
Kaelen inclined his head —
an acknowledgment of a hidden wound he recognized in her.
He didn't press.
He didn't demand.
He simply stood with her —
a silent sentinel.
And in that silence,
Iselyra made her choice.
Not for thrones.
Not for crowns.
For them.
⸻
The Oath
That night, aboard the Red Radiant, Zaraya called them all together around the ship's main engine —
a ritual she insisted on whenever the crew grew.
She held up a battered flask.
"No fancy speeches," she said. "No binding spells. No ancient blood oaths."
She looked at each of them —
at Kaelen, Jaxen, Plo, Drex, and Iselyra.
"Just this."
"We ride together.
We fight together.
We fall together if we must —
but we never turn away.
We are the Dawnbreakers now.
And the stars had better make room for us."
She offered the flask to Kaelen first.
He took a long drink — no expression.
Then Jaxen, grinning as he wiped his mouth dramatically.
Then Plo, struggling with the heavy flask and nearly toppling over (with Drex's help).
And finally —
Iselyra.
She took the flask in her frost-scarred hands.
For a moment, the light caught her eyes —
like frozen diamonds burning with hidden fire.
She drank.
And for the first time in a long, long time,
the weight she carried became a little lighter.
She was no longer alone.
She was Dawnbreaker.
⸻
Meanwhile, Elsewhere…
Across the far edges of the galaxy,
broadcasts whispered of the battle at Hallowspire.
Of the mysterious crew that defied the Cult and shattered elite squads.
Of cosmic storms and frozen queens.
Of Dawnbreakers.
Bounties rose.
Threats were issued.
The Cult stirred, angry and afraid.
The Black Circuit restructured its hunting protocols.
And in the deepest dark,
a figure cloaked in endless shadow smiled cruelly:
Kain —
the Betrayer of Crowns,
the Harrowed Architect,
one of the Twelve.
"Let them rise," he whispered to the void.
"The higher they climb… the sweeter the fall."
The Quiet After the Storm
Station Hallowspire floated silent once more,
adrift between the fractured remnants of Verdan's Grave's gravity.
Inside the battered ruins of the command core,
the Dawnbreakers gathered around the last working holo-table —
its flickering blue light casting long shadows across the room.
Plo sat cross-legged on the table itself, a data pad in one hand, Drex curled protectively around her.
Zaraya lounged nearby, one foot propped on a fallen beam, cosmic light pulsing gently from her hands.
Kaelen leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, always watching, always silent.
Jaxen was tinkering with a damaged turret, muttering curses under his breath.
And Iselyra — still traveling under the name "Ilyse" — sat a little apart, sharpening Frostbrand methodically.
⸻
Plo's Decision
Plo cleared her throat, setting the pad aside.
"So…" she said, voice bright. "I've decided something."
Everyone looked at her.
Drex let out a small, encouraging bark.
"You're all fascinating," Plo said bluntly, waving a hand. "Scientifically and otherwise.
Your energy patterns, your combat styles, your cosmic signatures… fascinating."
Zaraya grinned.
"You like us."
"I am… interested," Plo corrected primly.
"And thus, for the sake of advancing my research into multiversal phenomena,
I have decided to stay with you. Until further notice."
Jaxen gave a low whistle.
"Hear that? We're a lab experiment now."
Kaelen gave a faint, sardonic smile.
"We always were."
Plo beamed proudly, as if she hadn't just called them walking research projects.
Zaraya laughed and ruffled her hair —
which Plo tolerated with royal dignity for about two seconds before huffing and teleporting herself onto Drex's back.
Drex rumbled happily and carried her in a small, lazy circle.
⸻
The Frostborne's Silent Oath
Later, as the others patched wounds and scavenged supplies,
Iselyra stood at one of the broken windows, staring out into the void.
The stars burned cold beyond the shattered glass.
Kaelen approached her, silent as always.
They stood side by side for a moment.
No words.
Just understanding.
Finally, Kaelen spoke — soft and low:
"You're not what you pretend to be."
Iselyra smiled faintly — a sharp, sad thing.
"Neither are you."
Kaelen inclined his head —
an acknowledgment of a hidden wound he recognized in her.
He didn't press.
He didn't demand.
He simply stood with her —
a silent sentinel.
And in that silence,
Iselyra made her choice.
Not for thrones.
Not for crowns.
For them.
⸻
The Oath
That night, aboard the Red Radiant, Zaraya called them all together around the ship's main engine —
a ritual she insisted on whenever the crew grew.
She held up a battered flask.
"No fancy speeches," she said. "No binding spells. No ancient blood oaths."
She looked at each of them —
at Kaelen, Jaxen, Plo, Drex, and Iselyra.
"Just this."
"We ride together.
We fight together.
We fall together if we must —
but we never turn away.
We are the Dawnbreakers now.
And the stars had better make room for us."
She offered the flask to Kaelen first.
He took a long drink — no expression.
Then Jaxen, grinning as he wiped his mouth dramatically.
Then Plo, struggling with the heavy flask and nearly toppling over (with Drex's help).
And finally —
Iselyra.
She took the flask in her frost-scarred hands.
For a moment, the light caught her eyes —
like frozen diamonds burning with hidden fire.
She drank.
And for the first time in a long, long time,
the weight she carried became a little lighter.
She was no longer alone.
She was Dawnbreaker.
⸻
Meanwhile, Elsewhere…
Across the far edges of the galaxy,
broadcasts whispered of the battle at Hallowspire.
Of the mysterious crew that defied the Cult and shattered elite squads.
Of cosmic storms and frozen queens.
Of Dawnbreakers.
Bounties rose.
Threats were issued.
The Cult stirred, angry and afraid.
The Black Circuit restructured its hunting protocols.
And in the deepest dark,
a figure cloaked in endless shadow smiled cruelly:
Kain —
the Betrayer of Crowns,
the Harrowed Architect,
one of the Twelve.
"Let them rise," he whispered to the void.
"The higher they climb… the sweeter the fall."