Xela Voidfrost sits alone at the center of a softly lit starship suite. The curved alloy bed beneath her has shifted into a low, nestlike shape, wrapped in a thin blanket woven of sweetgrass and resonance fabric. Warm golden light filters through the chamber, casting gentle highlights on her pale skin and white hair with an icy-blue sheen. Threads of frost-blue and violet resonance pulse faintly from the spiral on her chest, braided with the soft shimmer of starfire — the echo of another’s song woven into her own. Her posture is quiet, upright but not rigid, as though awakening from a long sleep. The room around her breathes with the living hum of the Nebula craft — faint resonance lines glowing along the alloy walls, catching the warmth of the ship’s light. Everything feels still and alive, a fragile calm after ruin. Xela’s expression is a mix of confusion, quiet awe, and the tentative weight of someone who has not felt warmth in a very long time.

Xela wakes — not Hollow, not gone. Alive.
A fragile warmth, a resonance reborn.

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