Chapter 6 #2
When the lantern guttered low, I stood up and walked over, wrapping my fingers around the ceramic bowl. The gold inside was lighter than I expected, but unmistakably alive with promise.
“Do you want me to hide this?” I asked.
Autumn shook her head. “No. Just keep it safe. I will make more.”
I nodded and placed the bowl on the top shelf, beside the compass and the old Navy mug that had survived the Blue Wave. I looked back at Autumn, who had curled her knees up and was hugging them to her chest, her velvet dress bunched at the waist.
“Thank you,” I said.
She didn’t answer with words, but she smiled, and that was enough.
I left the lantern burning low, the gold dust still shining at the edge of the desk. It was going to be a busy day, but we had a new tool, and I, no, we all had Autumn to thank for that.
* * *
After breakfast, we took a little walk north of Avalon.
During the first aerial check of the island, a small, blackened campsite was spotted, but because it had no structures, it was marked as a low priority.
I had some time, though, and the look of that site and the humanoid skeletons nagged at me.
It would keep nagging until I saw it for myself.
Taylor walked to my right, her stride unhurried, a portable scanner from the Horizon clipped to her belt swinging against her hip with each step. Autumn rode on my left shoulder, one hand gripping the collar of my shirt, her platinum hair floating in the wind.
Behind us, four Ci Dyn spread in a loose wedge, their weapons a mix of M4 carbines and the old flintlock muskets Gascha’s people had brought from their world.
Two of them carried extra water in canvas pouches slung across their backs.
Their voices had dropped off twenty minutes ago, replaced by the steady crunch of boots on dry soil and the occasional click of a safety checked and rechecked.
“We’re close,” Taylor said. Her voice carried no inflection, only data. “It is over the next ridge. A hundred yards, give or take.”
I nodded. The hillside steepened, forcing us to pick our footing. The brush thinned, then gave way to bare rock veined with lichen in dull greens and grays. The sun sat high and white, beating down on the back of my neck.
We found the camp where the ridge flattened into a shallow bowl. What remained of it.
Taylor crouched first, her scanner humming to life, its display casting a pale blue glow across the rock. She ran it in slow passes over the ground, her eyes tracking the readout.
“Approximately one year old,” she said. “No intact remains. Partial skeletal fragments, consistent with Trazzor physiology. Male.” She picked up a curved bone fragment and turned it in the light.
“Cranial structure matches large feline morphology. Tail vertebrae present.” She set it down and moved to a scatter of darker fragments.
“Armor plating. Polymer weave, not Earth-manufactured. The burn pattern suggests high-temperature exposure, localized but intense.”
I squatted beside her. The whole campsite was scorched. Stone blackened across a wide stretch, patches of sand melted into rough glass, scraps of what had once been garments or webbing fused and brittle.
“Doesn’t look like an explosion,” I said. “I’ve seen what grenades and impact charges do. This is different.”
Taylor’s eyes moved over the blackened ground. “High heat. Whatever it was, it cooked the site thoroughly.”
At the edge of the camp, half-buried in loose scree, lay the smashed housing of a short-range communication relay. The casing was split and blackened; its interior components fused.
Taylor glanced at the Ci Dyn, who had fanned out to the perimeter, two to the east ridge, two to the west. Their voices carried far enough that I could hear the low rumble of their old tongue, but not the words.
She turned back to me, her expression neutral. “James. What I’m about to say is complex. I suggest we keep it between the three of us, at least for now.”
Autumn’s grip on my collar tightened.
“Go ahead,” I said.
Taylor’s voice dropped, though there was no one close enough to hear.
“The remains match Trazzor records pulled from Horizon’s database.
The ship IDs, the racial classifications, the star maps, the technical specifications.
All of it aligns with content from the Mega Space RPG and its spin-offs.
The tabletop game, the video games, the cartoons, related material. ”
She paused, letting it land.
“There’s a poster aboard Horizon. Blonde woman, topless.
It matches a character from a game mod that Stingray Arms recovered from a personal computer during an investigation into the origins of species.
The numerous topless images of the ship’s original captain appear to be connected to the same source.
The evidence suggests Horizon most likely came from a modded version of the video game. ”
The heat on the ridge felt suddenly heavier.
“The Kana appear as a minor race in the tabletop RPG,” Taylor continued. “They never show up in the video game. The Awenasa share the same origin.”
I looked at the Ci Dyn on the perimeter; their ears swiveled toward the horizon, their postures alert. Then back to Taylor.
“What about them?” I asked.
“I don’t know for certain. Preliminary evidence supports their existence in the Mega Tabletop RPG universe, including the Fantasy and some of the science fiction world books. But the data is incomplete.”
Autumn shifted on my shoulder. “What about me?” Her voice was small but clear.
Taylor shook her head. “Fairies are common across many fantasy games, anime, and related media. Your abilities match both the Mega Fantasy TTRPG and several other sources. It’s impossible to be certain at this point.”
Autumn studied Taylor’s face, her deep blue eyes unblinking. The silence stretched.
“And you?” Autumn asked.
Taylor went still. For several seconds, she said nothing. The scanner hummed quietly against her hip.
“A fair question.” Her voice came out measured, each word placed with care.
“Stingray Arms has determined that its origin is from the Mega Apocalypse TTRPG. This is classified information. However, anyone who finds the Mega Apocalypse Sourcebook 1 will discover this.” She paused.
“We are working to minimize or eliminate the weaknesses spelled out in the book.”
I wanted to ask why she waited so long to tell me, and why she chose this moment, but I decided I’d ask her that in private later, maybe aboard the Horizon, where we could be alone.
Autumn turned away from her, toward the burned ground. Her tiny fingers reached into the pouch at her hip and came out with a pinch of golden dust. She held it between thumb and forefinger, studying it for a moment, then scattered it across the scorched rock.
“Show me,” she said.
The dust caught the afternoon light and leaped.
Golden motes rose and spread, hanging in the air like fireflies, then coalesced into shapes that flickered and resolved.
Ghost figures assembled over the site, translucent but vivid: Trazzor moving through the camp, speaking in low voices, the relay intact on its stand.
One large male with a full mane like a lion’s, his movements commanding.
Two smaller males, wiry and quick. A single female, her ears flattened in what might have been concentration or worry.
They moved through the routines of setting camp, unpacking gear, and checking weapons. The large male barked an order, and one of the smaller ones nodded, making an adjustment on the relay that stayed out of sight.
Then a shape shifted at the edge of the projection. A blur, still out of clear resolution. The figures reacted. Weapons came up fast. One of them snarled, “What is that?” The words hung in the air, crisp and terrified.
The attack hit from above. A blast of fire, or the shape of a large beast descending.
The vision wasn’t clean enough to confirm which.
The Trazzor died hard and fast. The large male went down swinging, his weapon firing into empty air.
The female made it three steps before she crumpled. The relay exploded, casing flying.
The images faded. The dust settled back onto the rock, dull now, its magic spent.
Nobody spoke. The heat pressed down.
Taylor moved first. She photographed the site from multiple angles, her scanner recording the burn pattern and remains. The Ci Dyn collected what could be moved: bone shards, armor plates, pieces of the relay casing, each item bagged and labeled according to Taylor’s instructions.
Taylor studied the burn marks on the rock face, her head tilted, calculating.
“This appears consistent with an aerial dragon attack,” she said. “Most likely the same dragon Stingray Arms killed during our earlier operation on the island. The scatter pattern of the remains supports an impact from above, followed by sustained heat exposure.”
She looked at me. “Portal storms still occur. Less frequently than in the first months after the Blue Wave, but they haven’t stopped. Whatever finished this group is probably gone. It’s still worth staying alert.”
I looked at the burned rock, at the geometric scars cut deep into the stone. Then at the horizon line above the scrub, where the sky met the ridge in a hard, clean line.
I said nothing. There wasn’t anything to say that the rock hadn’t said louder.
We packed the samples and started down the hill. Autumn rode quietly on my shoulder, her tiny body warm against my neck. The Ci Dyn took point, their weapons ready. Taylor walked beside me, her stride matching mine without effort.
The sun neared noon, bringing more heat. Behind us, the campsite sat empty under the white sky, the dust settled, the ghosts gone.