The Foxfire Saga

The Driftknight was gone. Only the wind remained. Thin, sharp, and endless. And the weight of cold settling deep into the bones of the world.

Akiko stood still, claws clenched tight around the mining laser. Her breath fogged and vanished. The only sound left was the hum of the storm and the thoughts she couldn't quiet.

Plans spun in her head. Each one collapsed under scrutiny. They had the fabricator. But without power, it was scrap.

She looked down at the laser.

Tanya's work. Akiko trusted it implicitly. Between the two of them, they'd become frighteningly good at magitech, patching together systems no one else in the system could've managed. That wasn't the problem.

The problem was what they were working with. The mining laser's design had come straight out of the entity's twisted experiments, a bit of god-tech reverse-engineered by sheer stubbornness and luck. Then they'd grafted a micro-fusion core ripped from a dragon's hoard onto it. A core that still pulsed with faint, volatile mana, like the heart of something that hadn't quite died.

Even standing near it, Akiko could feel the wrongness, a subtle vibration through her suit.

She could try to tap a lead to feed the fabricator. It might work. Or it might carve a new crater through the ice. Either way, it'd be spectacular. Worse, even if she was successful, if she understood it wrong, it could open doors she wasn't ready to see through.

Her gaze shifted to the construct's remains, jagged shadows sprawled across the ice.

That was the smarter path. Safer. The construct was god-tech too, same as her mining rig, twisted handiwork of the entity, but at least it wasn't active. Easier to tear down something already dormant than gamble on a device still thrumming with unstable power.

If she could map its circuits, decode even a fraction of its logic, maybe she'd find another way. One that didn't end with her turning into Karn's echo.

But time wasn't on their side.

Their oxygen reserves were a joke, barely enough to scrape by. And that was just the start. Food, water, heat. Each was a dwindling promise. Her suit's magitech weave kept her alive, but it didn't make her comfortable. Not after days of stress, blood, and frostbitten grit. She needed more than survival. She needed a shower. A real bed. Something human.

She exhaled sharply, jaw tight.

Raya was right.

Akiko turned. Raya stood nearby, her gaze steady and unyielding. And Akiko knew. She didn't need to ask. They couldn't stay here. They had to go back.

Her stomach turned cold.

Isvann Hold. The closest settlement. The last place she wanted to be. They'd know her there. By name. By reputation. Akiko the destroyer. Akiko the mage. Akiko the one who walked into towns and left them worse than she found them.

She'd heard those whispers before. Long before this world, before the stars and steel. Back home, where the forests clung to mist and magic, and the villages locked their doors tight at night. Kitsunes were always bad luck, the old tales said. Tricksters, fox-spirits, silver-tongued things that danced at the edges of trust.

Pretty lies. Shifting shapes. Trouble. Even when she tried to help, they looked at her like a storm in disguise. Here, in this world of fusion drives and railguns, not much had changed.

The thought hit hard. She bit it back. Survival first.

She turned toward the fabricator. The mining laser pulsed faintly in her hands.

"We need to move," she said.

Raya glanced at her. "Back to civilization?"

Akiko hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"Yeah. We can't survive out here on faith and frost. The fabricator can wait."

Raya stepped closer. "You sure?"

"No." The truth hung between them, cold and fragile. "But we don't have a choice."

Akiko shifted the mining laser in her grip, then extended her right arm and slid it into the slot at its base. The device hummed as it locked into place with a magnetic click. A thin pulse of foreign mana rippled through the connection. The regulators held. No feedback, no burn. Just heat.

[Mining Laser – Modified] equipped.

Mana Regeneration: +12.3%

Backflow Regulators: Stable

She exhaled through her teeth, bracing against the tug of the connection. Already, the sluggish trickle of her core felt a little less suffocating. It wasn't much. But it was enough.

They started walking.

The wind rose, carving the plains into shapes that looked like ruins and ribs. Chasms split the ice ahead, steaming faintly where the moon still bled heat.

Above them, Erythraea loomed, its red clouds swirling like a slow bruise across the sky. The reflected light from the gas giant cast strange, shifting shadows on the ice, a constant reminder of the moon's precarious position in the system .

Far above, pieces of Zephara's crust drifted toward the gas giant, catching the light one last time before they vanished.

Akiko's breath came in short bursts, oxygen veil flickering dimly around her face. The toxic atmosphere pressed close. The mining laser pulled at her arm. Heavy, but nothing compared to the weight curling in her gut.

Each step took them farther from the construct. And each step tightened her chest.

She looked back, half-expecting to see someone, anyone, emerging over the horizon. The construct was a speck now, distant and jagged. But it still pulled at her. Like it knew she didn't want to leave it behind.

She'd tried. Days spent crawling through its broken shell, searching for access points, tools, time.

But there was no time. The oxygen wouldn't wait.

Her claws flexed as they reached the edge of a wide chasm. Steam rose in slow, ghostly curls from the depths. She crouched, digging into the ice for balance.

A narrow bridge arched across the gap. The footing was slick. Treacherous.

"We'll have to cross here," she said, voice rough over comms.

Raya nodded beside her. Akiko stepped out onto the bridge.

Her thoughts refused to follow. Someone would find it.

The battle had lit up the moon. Everyone would know by now. Haven certainly did. And Haven wouldn't just ignore the aftermath. They'd be planning, scheming, deciding how best to exploit the site.

The construct was more than just salvage. It was power.

Akiko's jaw clenched.

Whoever claimed it would shape the system's future, at least until the next catastrophe swept them aside.

She reached the far side and turned, watching Raya cross. Each step precise. Balanced. She didn't look back.

Akiko's claws dug into her palms.

They'd take it. Break it. Weaponize it. They didn't understand what it was. They didn't care.

"What's wrong?" Raya's voice, low and clear, cut through the static.

Akiko didn't answer right away.

"The construct," she said finally. "What if someone finds it?"

Raya stepped up, placed a hand on her shoulder.

"We're doing what we need to do. That's what matters right now."

Akiko wanted to argue. But she didn't.

They kept walking. The landscape trembled beneath them, geysers erupting in the distance, sending steam into the sky. The ice hissed and cracked, thin in places, as if the whole moon were trying to shake them loose.

Hours passed. The first lights of Isvann Hold blinked into view over a jagged ridge. They were flickering, weak and inconsistent candles in the darkness. From the ridge, the outer structures of the Hold rose in silhouette, broken teeth against the gas giant's glow.

Akiko's suit chimed. She blinked as data overlaid her vision: heat signatures, power failures, breach warnings. Her stomach twisted.

"Outer sectors didn't hold," she muttered.

Raya tilted her head. "What's left?"

Akiko zoomed in. The sight made her throat go dry. She magnified the map overlay. The sight hit her like a blow to the chest.

Debris scattered across the ice. Half-buried steel, bent supports, shredded conduits. Smoke and frost hung over the wreckage, glowing faintly in Erythraea's light.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Then Takuto's voice cut in. Even, clinical, but tinged with an edge she'd come to recognize as worry.

"Isvann Hold integrity: 41%. Containment breach in three sectors. Secondary life support offline. Estimated population within safe zones: 67% of pre-collapse figures."

Sixty-seven percent. A third of the people here… gone.

Her claws twitched. She stared down at the wreckage. Guilt settled over her like another layer of cold.

Raya stepped closer. "People are still alive," she said. "That means there's still something we can do."

Akiko swallowed. "We'll see what's left."

They began the descent. Step by step, the wreckage sharpened. Every broken edge cut deeper.

Makeshift barricades ringed the outermost habitable zones: scrap metal, rusted conduits, old ship plating bent into walls. Emergency lights flickered unevenly, casting pale shadows on the ice.

Figures moved behind the defenses. Scavengers, mostly. Some armed. All wary.

Even from a distance, Akiko could feel it: tension etched into every movement. The kind that came from too many close calls and too little rest. Heads turned. Weapons stayed ready. No one trusted the silence.

Beyond the barricades, scavenger crews picked through the wreckage. They moved fast, eyes darting to the horizon like they expected something to rise from it.

Takuto murmured in her ear. "Warning: increased thermal activity detected in Isvann Hold's geothermal generators. Probability of critical overload: 48%."

Her stomach dropped.

"The generators are failing," she muttered. "If they go critical…"

The whole Hold would collapse. Air. Heat. Everything. Gone.

She stepped forward, claws flexing. Raya followed in silence.

As they neared the barricade, Akiko caught motion, guards stepping into view. Their survival suits were patched and fogged at the visors, but their posture was clear: don't come closer.

"They're not thrilled to see us," Raya said over a closed channel.

"Would you be?" Akiko's voice was low. Bitter. "I'm sure they know who I am by now."

Even if they didn't, they would soon enough.

One of the guards' helmet lamps swept over her and stalled, catching on the mining laser mounted along her arm. The faint hum of its regulators seemed to deepen in the silence, almost daring them to flinch.

Weapons came up. Cobbled rail rifles, shock batons with jury-rigged power packs. None of it looked clean. But it would still hurt.

"Who goes there?" one called out, voice crackling through the comms.

Akiko hesitated.

"Akiko," she said at last. "And Raya. We need supplies."

A ripple went through the small squad. They traded glances through mirrored visors, hands twitching near their weapons. One shifted uneasily on his feet. Another muttered something sharp and low. Too quiet to catch over the hiss of the open comm line, but it earned a quick, cutting gesture from the guard in charge.

"We should turn them away," someone hissed. "You've heard the reports—"

"And you want to be the one responsible for what happens if we do?" another shot back, voice tight.

A fraught silence followed. Then, reluctantly, the lead guard lifted his hand and waved them through. "Don't make trouble," he growled.

Akiko nodded once, wordless, and stepped past. She felt their stares burning into her back all the way through the checkpoint.

The airlock hissed open. They stepped through. Warmth wrapped around them like a blanket. Dry and artificial, but still a shock after the bite of Zephara's surface. The seals finished cycling with a final clunk.

Raya reached up, fingers unclasping the latches at her helmet's collar. With a soft twist, the pressure seal broke. She drew the helmet off slowly, dark hair spilling free in a messy wave. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes rimmed with fatigue, but she was smiling.

Akiko stared.

Finally, the mask was gone. The shield. The layers of pressure suit and separation that had stood between them like glass walls for days. This was the first time she'd seen Raya's face uncovered since…

Gods, how long had it been?

Something in Akiko went quiet.

"I missed this," she said softly, before she could stop herself. "You. Like this."

Raya blinked, and for a moment the weariness dropped away, replaced by something raw. She smiled, warm in a way that made Akiko's heart flutter. "You sap."

Akiko's lips twitched. "Don't tell anyone."

Everything pressed in at once. The pain, the exhaustion, the quiet terror of pretending to be strong when all she'd wanted was this. Someone to see her, to be with her, to make it real.

And now it was. Just for a moment. They stood like that, close, unarmored, for the first time in what felt like weeks.

Then the whispers began, threading through the corridor like needles.

Akiko's ears twitched. Her shoulders stiffened.

"Is that her?"

"Her face is all over Haven's broadcasts…"

"She's the one with the tail, right? The suit?"

"Didn't think she'd show her face here again."

Akiko's body tensed, the warmth bleeding away. The moment shattered. Eyes. So many eyes.

She kept her eyes forward, locked on the next checkpoint. But the words wrapped around her like wire. Her tail flicked once, betraying her tension.

Beside her, Raya moved untouched. Her standard Haven-issue suit blended in with the rest. It was plain, efficient. Anonymous.

Akiko might as well have been glowing.

Her armor shimmered faintly under the lights. Dragon-scale, layered with mana-etched tech no one here could match. The suit whispered of things people here would never afford. Never survive.

She was a myth among ghosts.

Her open face mana shield that framed her face left her ears exposed. Her eyes. Her guilt.

There was no hiding. Not here. She tried to focus. Count supplies, measure routes.

Oxygen tanks lined the barricades, scratched and sealed with desperation. Water drums stood beside them, guarded like relics. Survivors moved between them, quiet and quick.

Akiko cataloged the rest: cables, batteries, hand tools, coiled wire for repairs.

We could grab some oxygen now, she thought. Trade for the rest. Or take it.

Her gaze shifted to a weak point in the defenses. They'd never see her coming.

"Akiko."

Raya's voice, sharp but calm, cut through the spiral.

Akiko blinked. "What?"

"Are you seriously thinking about stealing from these people?"

Akiko stiffened. "I wasn't—"

She stopped. The lie crumbled before it landed.

Her voice dropped. "I was just… thinking about what we need."

Raya didn't raise her voice. It hit harder because she didn't.

"And what they need?" She tilted her head toward a cluster of children huddled near a water drum. Clothes hung loose on their thin frames, sleeves frayed, too-large boots clunking with every hesitant step. "What about them?"

Akiko's ears flattened. "I wasn't going to take anything," she said. It came out defensive. Too fast.

Raya sighed. "This kind of thinking, taking what you need, consequences be damned, it's what got us into this mess. You can't keep doing it. Can't keep clawing your way through every crisis like the next one will fix the last."

Akiko looked away. She didn't argue. Her claws twitched at her sides.

"They don't need another problem," Raya said, quieter now. "And neither do we. If we're going to survive this, and I mean really survive it, then we have to stop making ourselves the exception. Start being part of something. Even if it's broken."

Akiko stared down at the frost-cracked floor. She didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to stop surviving long enough to do anything else.

But maybe… maybe Raya was right. Maybe survival wasn't the only thing left.

She met Raya's gaze. "Okay," she said, voice low. "We'll do it your way."

Raya's lips pressed together. It wasn't quite a smile, but it was approval all the same. A quiet promise that they'd figure this out.

Voices drifted toward them. Tired, hoarse, too many people trying to hold too little together. As they stepped closer, a pair of workers hauling salvaged cabling paused to eye them warily. One of them bristled, mouth opening like he might demand they move on.

But Raya lifted her chin, her voice carrying more steadiness than Akiko felt. "Where can we help? We've got experience with systems repair, medical… whatever you need most."

That earned a subtle shift. The tension didn't vanish, but uncertainty edged out hostility. The worker hesitated, glanced back down the corridor, then jerked his head in that direction.

"This way," he muttered. "The operations leads are coordinating triage and infrastructure. If you're serious, they'll find something for you."

They were led through a narrow hall, recently cleared. Makeshift beds flanked the walls, bodies wrapped in insulation and silence. The scent of burned circuitry clung to the recycled air.

Akiko's claws tapped softly against the metal plates of her suit. The sound was too loud.

Raya's steps slowed. Her eyes lingered on the still shapes beneath the thermal blankets, lips pressed thin, one hand curling unconsciously at her side.

Akiko didn't speak. She'd seen death like this before. Too much of it. She kept her gaze forward.

But when Raya drew a sharp breath, quiet but raw, Akiko's tail brushed lightly against her thigh. A silent tether. A reminder: I'm here.

The corridor opened into chaos.

A broad operations bay. Half-lit, overflowing with terminals, maps, bodies in motion. Fractured power lines pulsed behind mesh covers. People hunched over consoles, their movements twitchy, exhausted.

At the center: two figures arguing, sharp voices cutting through the din.

"I'm telling you, Drake, it's a waste of time!" the woman snapped. "We barely have enough to hold the dome together, and you want to chase some miracle scrap job?"

Drake was broad-shouldered, rigid. "Alannah, that 'scrap job' could save this Hold. You saw what that machine did. If we don't take the chance, someone else will."

Akiko froze. Her heart stuttered.

The construct. They were talking about it. The mech. The thing she barely understood, only survived. And now someone wanted to dig it up.

Panic slid under her ribs. She tried to listen, but her thoughts spun too fast.

How do I stop this?

Lie? Say it's cursed, radioactive, rigged to explode? Or magic. Subtle, persuasive. Nudge their minds until they forgot it existed.

A firm hand settled on her shoulder.

She flinched.

Raya. Eyes steady. No fear. No panic.

"Let me handle this," she said.

Akiko hesitated, claws flexing. Then nodded.

Raya stepped forward like she belonged there.

"Excuse me," she said, loud enough to cut through. "You really think this is worth risking lives for?"

Drake turned, scowl deepening. "And who exactly are you?"

"Someone with enough common sense to see what's in front of her," Raya said coolly.

She folded her arms. Based on the looks everyone was giving Raya, her battered Haven suit still carried weight. "You want to chase some exotic prototype because you hope it'll fix everything? Meanwhile, Haven ships are falling out of orbit, full of actual resources. Oxygen. Heat exchangers. Medical-grade parts. Stuff you know works."

Alannah raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting to one of cautious interest.

Drake bristled. "And what do you know about salvage?"

"I know how bad bets work." Raya didn't blink. "That mech? It's alien. Unstable. Maybe it helps. Or maybe it backfires and fries your last working generator. You want to take that risk when the alternative is safer, and already falling from the sky?"

Akiko stayed back. She wasn't part of this fight. Not this time.

Alannah exhaled, triumph in her gaze. "See? She's making my point perfectly."

Drake's glare flicked between them.

Alannah turned fully to him now, voice low but final. "Nobody's going anywhere. Not while the Hold's one bad spike away from collapse."

She gestured toward a flickering monitor. Power levels: unstable. Dangerous.

Drake's scowl didn't fade. But he didn't argue, either. He crossed his arms and fell quiet.

Akiko shifted her weight, tail twitching once behind her. The conversation swirled around her. Geothermal instability, rising pressure, dwindling time. But all she could feel was Raya's gaze, steady and patient.

Waiting for her to speak.

She cleared her throat.

"I… might be able to help with that."

The room stilled. Eyes turned.

Akiko felt her ears dip under the pressure of it, the burn of old instincts telling her to shrink, to disappear, but she forced herself to stand taller.

Alannah's gaze pinned her. "You can help?"

Akiko hesitated. Just for a second. Then, under her breath, "We can help, can't we?"

Takuto's voice responded immediately, filtered through the subtle edge of his dry confidence.

"Geothermal grid schematics: 2,041 matches. Ninety-two percent compatibility. Required modifications: within tolerances. Estimated success probability: acceptable."

Akiko blinked. "That's unusually optimistic for you."

"I adjusted for morale. You're welcome."

Despite herself, her lips twitched.

The tension broke. Just a little. Enough to breathe.

She looked up again, met Alannah's gaze.

"I've worked on fusion drives. The systems aren't that different," she said, louder now.

That sounded plausible, she hoped. In truth, she had no idea if geothermal systems bore any resemblance to shipboard fusion arrays. Heat, pressure, containment loops, it all sounded vaguely familiar. But, she'd learned one system on the fly with Takuto whispering in her ear and the Skill Layer thrumming in her thoughts, she'd figure this one out too.

With a final bit of resolve, she continued, "If I can access the generators, I might be able to stabilize them. Or at least keep them from failing until you've got the rest sorted."

Alannah didn't respond right away. Her gaze stayed sharp. Assessing.

Akiko held it. Let her see the tension. The wear. Her willingness to help.

Finally, Alannah gave a slow nod.

"If you think you can help, I'm not stopping you. But this isn't about good intentions. It's about what you can actually fix."

"Understood."

Beside her, Raya's hand brushed against hers. A subtle touch.

Akiko glanced at her. The smile there wasn't bright. But it was solid. She turned back to Alannah. Nodded once.

I talk a good game, she thought. Sometimes too good. Gets me into trouble. Maybe this time, I'll live up to it instead.