Klira, the Gloaming Settlement Vianh had insisted they visit, felt like a far cry from the Roscaa they had been introduced to.​

Gone were the crystalline towers, the sprawling courtyards, and spectacular vistas. Here, small huts crouched beneath a perpetually bruised sky and leaned against each other as if waiting for the next blow.

The wind carried both a chill and, beneath it, a sharp metallic tang Nestira couldn’t quite place.

“It’s… different,” Rhaelle told Vianh after several moments of silence, settling on the response she deemed most diplomatic.

Conversations quieted as the group passed. No one stared at them. No one seemed curious. No one even seemed surprised at their presence.

And that, Nestira realized, was the part that didn’t sit right with her.

She saw indifference. She felt everything beneath it – apprehension, anger, fear. And an almost nervous anticipation.

If conversations with Vianh had seemed rehearsed, then Klira felt like the stage he was meant to usher them onto.

​“Why do people remain here?” she asked quietly. “Or… why did they come in the first place?”

“Most Gloaming Settlements were farming communities,” Vianh explained. “Roscaa, and the cities surrounding it, are far too hot to grow food.”

“And they are no longer needed?” Rhaelle asked, eyeing the poorly maintained buildings.

“Uh… n-.. We need them.” Vianh reassured quickly. “It’s just… they get attacked so frequently, the Grand Auralik decided there is no point in rebuilding every time. Not until they are safe.”

“Safe…” Nestira echoed.

Her gaze drifted to the towers that marked the edge of the village. Sharp, metallic, and unsettlingly new. She couldn’t help but wonder if they were meant to keep the Ry’kol out, or the Roscaa inside.

“They are not enough,” she concluded, “That’s why the Grand Auralik is asking for Starfleet’s help.”

Vianh offered a practised nod.

“He just wants the war to be over,” he said, his words feeling too smooth. We all do.”

Nestira gave a quiet incline of her head, and turned her attention to the horizon. In the distance, she could see where day and night met. The Gloaming. That’s what locals called it.

She knew what lay beyond; she had seen the Hathos’ scans: Icy, hostile terrain. Unfit for life. Still, it had a pull to it. Whispered to her. Beckoned her to come closer.

So she did.

Slowly, Nestira took a step toward it. Then another. Then…

The tower beside her woke with a scream that shattered the uneasy quiet.

Sirens mingled with panicked voices as the town erupted. Locals scattered for doorways, dragging with them whoever wasn’t moving fast enough. Some emerged a heartbeat later, weapons in hand, and with nothing but resentment for Nestira and Rhaelle.

You did this, their eyes said. This is your fault.  

“Ry’kol!” someone screamed, pointing at the gloaming as five vessels cut across the sky, rapidly closing the distance.

“Get down!” Rhalle yelled. She grabbed Nestira’s arm and yanked her towards the nearest building. In the distance, an approaching vessel burst into flames mid-air as the defence tower struck true. Another lurched, spiraled, and withdrew. A third slipped through the tower’s aim and fired, distracting it long enough for the other two to press their advantage.

“Where is Vianh?!”

​“He-…” Rhalle started and spun, scanning the chaos. “He was right behind us!”

​“There!” Nestira pointed.

Vianh had run towards the opposite building, pounding on a door.

“It’s me! Vianh!” he howled, but the door was unmoved by his plea.

“Damn it,” Rhaelle hissed and sprinted for him as the attackers slammed into whatever open space they could find and poured out of their vessels.

They looked like animals. Fur, horns, and skull-like masks that hid their features.

And they moved like predators.

Nestira raised her phaser, back pressed against the wall. She tapped her badge, harder than she had meant to.

“Hathos, we’re under attack!”​

Whatever response came, Nestira didn’t hear it.

She only heard a scream.

Rhaelle!

​Nestira didn’t hesitate. She shoved herself away from the wall and sprinted across the square toward the sound, catching a bare glimpse of Rhaelle and Vianh surrounded by those monsters – only to be met by a Ry’kol who slammed into her.

She twisted, stumbled, fired, missed.​

A heartbeat later, her skull met the ground.

And help arrived just a split second too late.