PAST

  The first time Zala Skipstone turned the holoview on, the cave lit up like lava moss had set up residence in her living room.

  A sheet of pale-blue projection unfurled above the stone table and assembled itself into depth, real depth, not flat picture depth. The image didn't sit on the air; it occupied it. A battle arena floated in black space, bright with shield-lights and packed with a crowd that looked like a moving field of gravel. In the center of it all, an island of round stone.

  Zala had insisted they buy the holoview. She'd said it was for Juna. She'd said family support mattered. She'd said the girl deserved to feel watched in a loving way.

  Zala had also arranged the seating.

  She sat closest to the projection; close enough that the glow polished her burgundy-blue stone skin to a theatrical shine. Her hands were folded with the neatness of someone who expected applause for simply sitting correctly.

  Vaug sat at the head of the table the way mountains sit at the head of valleys: not by invitation, but by physics. He held a stone cup of water and sipped slowly, deliberately, as if swallowing too quickly would make him look weak in front of the family.

  Brann lingered near the archway, tall and angular, pretending he just happened to be there. He always "just happened" to be where the attention was. His face was set in the familiar look of a Yuni male trying to appear above emotion while drowning in it.

  And Renn; Renn had shown up, which meant Zala's night was already a success.

  Renn Skipstone wasn't supposed to be there long. He was a reporter for the Aboveground now; polished voice, careful posture, the kind of person who could describe a landslide with tasteful adjectives. He claimed he was visiting. Zala claimed he was "finally back where he belongs."

  Brann claimed nothing out loud, but the way he watched his brother said plenty.

  The holoview's title shimmered overhead:

  99th COALITION CARNAGE - THE FINALS - BOUT 5

  Juna appeared, and the cave seemed to tighten around her name.

  She was younger then, still leaner in the shoulders, still wearing bravado like armor that hadn't been tested enough. She moved quickly on the stone with a grin that belonged in a festival, not a finals bout. Razor-feathers whistled past her and she laughed as if the enemy was providing entertainment.

  Zala's lips pressed together.

  "She's laughing again," Zala said, not quite a complaint and not quite a praise.

  Vaug didn't glance at her. "She laughs when she's confident."

  "She laughs when she's careless," Zala corrected, satisfied the way she always was when she turned someone's warmth into a flaw.

  Brann shifted, eyes locked on the projection. "Maybe it keeps her loose."

  Zala's gaze flicked to him. "Loose gets you broken."

  Renn, sensing the temperature of the cave the way a man senses a storm before a broadcast, tried to sound neutral. "She looks... fearless."

  Zala's head tilted. "Fearless is just a fancy way to say 'doesn't listen.'"

  Vaug's cup touched the table with a soft, heavy thunk. "She listens to me."

  Zala smiled in the direction of the holoview; sweet, polished, and just a little bit sharp. "Yes. Of course she does."

  Brann heard the blade under it and didn't let it pass. "She listens to Juna."

  Zala's smile stayed. "And how's that working out so far?"

  Above them, Koshinataa darted through the arena's air pocket and out into the void, winging back in with effortless control. His portals snapped open and shut as if the universe was his closet. Juna's fireflies chased him, tiny winged flames powered by her soul, fast enough to keep him moving, bright enough to make the crowd roar.

  Then Koshinataa pulled something new.

  Another mini portal opened beside his elbow. He plunged his arm into it and drew out a device with a trigger. He fired a cloud into Juna's fireflies path. The moment they passed through it, they sagged, flame turned gelatin, their pursuit collapsing into drifting globs.

  Brann leaned forward. "What is that?"

  "A trick," Vaug said, voice dry.

  Renn's eyes widened, fascinated in spite of himself. "That's... smart."

  Zala turned her head slightly toward Renn, pleased. "See? Even Renn understands tricks."

  Brann's jaw tightened. There it was, the way Zala could turn a compliment into a weapon with one small pivot of her mouth.

  On the projection, Juna's entire body flared with heat; flames crawling over her blue-and-burgundy rock skin before she internalized it, absorbing every bit until she glowed deep crimson. Smoke rose where her molten feet softened the ring's panels.

  Vaug's mouth twitched with pride he didn't want anyone to see.

  Zala let herself inhale as if she was smelling something burning in her kitchen. "She shouldn't do that."

  Vaug's eyes stayed on Juna. "That's her."

  "That's too much," Zala insisted, already preparing her future speech. "She always goes too far."

  Brann muttered, "You say that whenever she's doing well."

  Zala didn't even look at him. "I say it whenever she's doing loud."

  Juna quickened forward and leapt into open space to meet Koshinataa's dive.

  And then she exploded.

  The arena vanished behind a blinding bloom of fire. The holoview flooded the cave with white light so intense the walls looked briefly new. The station's shields flared. Even across distance, the sound came through like a deep quake.

  Renn flinched. Brann's breath broke. Vaug didn't blink.

  Juna landed in the center of the ring, back to her normal colors, smiling wide like the universe was a joke and she'd gotten the punchline first.

  Zala's voice came soft and certain. "That smile is going to cost her."

  Vaug's fingers tightened around his cup. "Stop talking like you want it to."

  Zala turned her eyes toward him, hurt, theatrical. "I want her to be safe."

  Brann's voice sharpened. "Safe isn't what she signed up for."

  The holoview angle shifted, tracking Juna as she floated upward-still smiling, still celebrating-out of the breathable pocket and into open void.

  For two seconds, it looked like victory.

  Then her face changed.

  The grin cracked. Shock washed over her. Panic clenched her throat. Her hands went to her neck. Her body jerked in sudden, helpless fear as the air abandoned her.

  Brann lifted a hand toward the projection like he could grab her back. "Juna-"

  Vaug's voice came out low and brutal. "No."

  A booming announcement echoed through the holoview:

  THE VICTOR OF BOUT 5... SUPERSTAR KOSHINATAA.

  The crowd erupted. Juna vanished and reappeared in the ring on her knees, gasping, dragging air into her lungs like it was the first time she'd ever owned it. Koshinataa landed before her, smug enough to make stone itch.

  Zala made a small sound before she could stop it; quick, bright, pleased.

  "There," she said, and the word landed like a clean chip off a statue. "There. Now maybe she'll stop."

  Brann stared at her like he'd just discovered a crack in bedrock. "Mother."

  Zala's smile widened; not cruel to her, simply correct. "She needed that. She needed to learn."

  Vaug turned his head slowly, each degree of movement heavy with warning. "You're delighted."

  Zala lifted her chin. "I'm realistic."

  Renn sat very still, caught between the instincts of a reporter and the instincts of a son. "Mom... I don't think that's-"

  Zala cut him off, sweet as polished rock. "Renn, hush. See? She's fine."

  Brann's voice went quiet, dangerous. "She isn't fine."

  Zala leaned back and watched the holoview like it had delivered something satisfying. "She lost. She lived. That's the best outcome."

  Vaug's cup struck the table, harder this time, a sound that rang through the cave like a gavel. "That's my granddaughter."

  Zala didn't flinch. She just smiled in the light of Juna's failure, warm as if the loss had finally proven something she'd wanted proven all along.

  Stolen story; please report.

  And Brann; Brann watched his mother's smile and understood exactly where second place began in this family.

  PRESENT

  The holoview hovered above the same table, but it was sharper now; newer, tuned for detail, state-of-the-art. Zala never missed a chance to mention that it had been upgraded "for Juna," as if hardware could substitute for support.

  Tonight, the projection wasn't Galaxy Station. It was another planet's arena; skies of darkness and the Kistal of Might floating in the darkness like a living island that refused to obey geology. The kistal shifted under Juna's feet, hot pink threaded with drifting flecks of white, reconfiguring itself every few breaths like it was trying to pick the most humiliating memory to throw at her.

  Only four people remained in the cave for this match.

  Vaug at the head of the table, stone cup in hand, sipping water like discipline.

  Zala beside him, posture perfect, eyes bright, mouth already warmed up for commentary.

  Brann by the archway, pretending he was only there because he happened to be passing through, as if the cave didn't have exactly one place where the air felt like family.

  And Renn across from Vaug, a smaller viewscope orb hovering near his shoulder, recording, streaming, because Renn had been ordered to do a piece on "The Skipstones' Reaction to Their Superstar Niece."

  He'd tried to refuse. His editor had laughed, while his mother had celebrated.

  "I always said you'd come home for something important," she'd told him, as if being forced into unpaid emotional labor counted as destiny.

  Juna's parents and siblings were out shopping at the market in Gemma; buying food, tools, cloth, whatever families bought when they didn't want to sit in a cave and watch someone they loved get hurt.

  Zala had been furious about it for the first ten minutes and smug about it for the next ten.

  "They go shopping during a match," she'd said. "As if the lava grub is going to sprint away."

  Brann had muttered, "Maybe they don't want to watch."

  Zala had smiled. "Maybe they can't handle it."

  Now, on the holoview, the Kistal of Might rippled and reshaped, and Juna skated forward on soles designed to glide. Her breath puffed faintly in the cold. Her eyes were focused in a way that made her look older than thirty five years. She was barely an adult.

  Renn glanced at the recording orb, then at his family, and sighed like a man reading his own sentence. "We're live," he said, voice already slipping into his professional tone. "If you could all-just-try to be normal for five minutes."

  Zala turned her sweet attention on him instantly. "Oh, Renn. You're so brave."

  Brann's eyes narrowed. "He's sitting."

  Zala didn't look at Brann. "He's working."

  Brann shifted, the old ache rising. "I work."

  Zala's smile stayed fixed. "You loom."

  Renn's mouth twitched as if he was trying not to enjoy it. Brann saw it and bristled. Renn always had that, Zala's approval, her fussing, her defense. Brann got corrections and doorframe assignments.

  Vaug didn't participate. He watched Juna, as if her movement was the only honest thing in the cave.

  Renn leaned slightly toward the table, framing his voice like a broadcast. "I'm Renn Skipstone, reporting from Gemma, where my family lives. Tonight, we're watching Superstar Juna Skipstone, my niece, face Superstar Koshinataa in a rematch a decade in the making."

  Zala brightened at "my niece" as if it made Renn sound more important. Brann's jaw tightened at the possessiveness. "She's our niece."

  Renn kept going, ignoring him like only a younger brother could. "With me are my parents, Vaug and Zala Skipstone, and my brother, Brann, Juna's uncle."

  Zala leaned closer to the lens line of the viewscope. "Say how proud we are."

  Renn glanced at her. "We're-"

  Vaug cut in without looking away from the holoview. "Don't perform pride. Watch the fight."

  Zala's expression flickered; hurt and offended, then quickly sweet again. "We can do both."

  Brann muttered, "You do both even when nobody asks."

  On the holoview, the kistal shifted suddenly. The alien arena blurred, then resolved into something painfully familiar.

  A neighborhood of low hovels appeared, their shapes echoing Yuni architecture. The street angle was wrong, the details too clean, everything was pink kistal, but the feeling was unmistakable.

  Vaug's old neighborhood.

  The Kistal of Might had reached into Juna's memory and pulled out Vaug's stomping grounds like a weaponized photograph.

  Renn's voice faltered mid-sentence. "Wait, that's-"

  Vaug's cup paused halfway to his mouth. "My street."

  Zala's eyes widened in delighted offense. "It has your neighbor's door wrong."

  Brann blinked at her. "That's your concern?"

  "It's disrespectful," Zala said crisply. "If you're going to traumatize someone, at least get the décor right."

  Renn stared at her. "Mother. That's not-"

  "Don't 'mother' me," Zala snapped, then instantly softened. "Sorry, Renn. It's just... stressful."

  Brann watched that switch; the sharpness reserved for him, the softness saved for Renn, and something in his face tightened.

  On-screen, Juna skated past a facsimile of Rockjo's Eatery. The kistal had recreated it with smug accuracy. Juna's gaze flickered toward it as if even in a death match she remembered breakfast.

  Brann huffed. "She's hungry."

  Zala sighed. "She always forgets to eat. I used to tell her-"

  Brann cut in. "When did you tell her anything? You mostly told her what not to be."

  Zala's smile sharpened. "And look. She's alive."

  Vaug finally drank, slow and measured, and set the cup down with a thunk that warned everyone to stop building scaffolds around old arguments.

  The arena changed again.

  The neighborhood melted away like wax, replaced by a massive cage; bars crisscrossing a pitch-black sky, arcing down into a confined battleground. Inside, the space felt smaller than it should have been. The kistal wanted closeness. It wanted panic.

  Koshinataa floated above, amused, as if the cage was a familiar joke. He opened a portal beside him and let a steel sphere drop.

  It hit the kistal floor with a clang that reverberated even through the holoview. It bounced, once, twice, and with every bounce it grew.

  Renn's voice went high. "Why is it getting bigger?"

  Brann answered without looking away. "Because the universe hates us."

  Zala lifted her chin. "Because she deserves consequences."

  Brann snapped his head toward her. "For what? Being brave?"

  Zala didn't flinch. "For being reckless."

  The steel orb ricocheted off the cage bars, its mass doubling, then doubling again, until it was moving like a runaway planet with an agenda. It slammed into the kistal, shook the cage, and came screaming back toward Juna.

  Juna dodged by millimeters; Quickening flaring, her feet skimming the surface as if air itself could become ground if she demanded it.

  Renn's hand lifted unconsciously, like he could block the orb with a gesture. "She's going to get hit."

  Vaug's voice was flat. "No."

  Zala leaned forward, eyes bright. "If she gets hit, maybe she'll learn to stop showing off."

  Brann stared at her as if the words had finally crawled out into daylight. "You want her to fail."

  Zala's smile was small, controlled, and familiar. "I want her alive. Sometimes failure is the price."

  Renn swallowed, caught between the job and the blood. He looked at the viewscope orb recording everything, then back to his mother. "You realize this is going out to the system."

  Zala blinked innocently. "Good. Let them see I'm a concerned grandmother."

  Brann's laugh came out sharp. "Concerned. Right."

  Renn's shoulders tensed. "Brann, don't start-"

  Brann turned on him fast. "Don't start? You've been back two months and you still don't see it? She treats you like you're made of fragile crystal and I'm a door."

  Zala's eyes went wide, offended. "That is not true."

  Brann's voice dropped. "Name three things Juna likes about you."

  Zala's mouth opened, and for the first time in the night, nothing came out immediately.

  Renn saw the hesitation and hated it, because it didn't just expose Zala, it exposed the whole family.

  Zala recovered with speed. "She likes my cooking."

  Brann stared. "It's not hard heating bugs."

  Zala snapped, "Fine. She likes my care."

  Brann's eyes narrowed. "She likes your approval. Those aren't the same."

  Renn's voice tried to turn it into a segment. "Okay, so what we're seeing in the arena is the Kistal of Might manifesting personal memory-"

  Vaug cut him off. "Stop narrating and watch."

  Renn flinched, then pressed on anyway, because work was the only place he didn't feel like a child. "This is whom she lost to last time-"

  Zala's eyes gleamed. "Yes."

  That single word, bright with old delight, landed in the cave like a dropped stalactite.

  Brann's face hardened. "There it is. You're happy when she loses."

  Zala's sweetness returned instantly, too smooth. "I'm happy when she survives."

  "You were smiling," Brann said. "I remember."

  Zala's gaze slid to Renn, pleading for him to defend her the way he always did.

  Renn didn't. Not immediately.

  Because on the holoview, Juna did something different. She stopped throwing "attacks." Now, she was placing them.

  Jade flame flickered into the air, not exploding, not chasing, just hanging, suspended like little green papuru stars that refused to fall. Another flicker. Another. The space inside the cage became a field of floating embers.

  Koshinataa laughed and tossed steel feathers. The steel orb bounced, louder now, faster, a continuous gong that made the projection shiver. He suddenly teleports outside the cage.

  Juna kept dodging, kept "missing," kept laying green light into the air like someone stringing a net.

  Renn's voice softened despite himself. "She's building something."

  Vaug nodded once. "She learned patience."

  Zala's eyes stayed fixed on the projection. "She learned fear."

  Brann snapped, "You always want to call it fear."

  Zala's mouth tightened. "Because I watched her nearly die."

  Brann's voice went quiet. "And you enjoyed the lesson."

  Zala turned toward him, and for a heartbeat the sweetness dropped entirely. "You don't get to accuse me of enjoying pain when you've spent your whole life resenting the attention she gets."

  The words struck Brann in a place he kept covered.

  Renn flinched too, because it wasn't just aimed at Brann. It was aimed at the entire family story.

  On-screen, Koshinataa finally noticed the air, green flame suspended everywhere, frost creeping outward as the jade began to crystallize the very atmosphere. Confusion creased his feathered brow.

  Juna looked up at him and smiled. It wasn't the old, careless smile. It was smaller. Sharper. A smile you paid for in blood and time.

  "Finally noticed?" she said.

  Renn felt his throat tighten. He'd come here to report on reactions, but the truth was he was watching his niece become something he didn't know how to describe without sounding like he cared too much.

  Juna spoke again, calm as a promise. "Since you asked so nicely... I call it Jaded Sky."

  The suspended pieces of crystal air coalesced, twisting and spinning into a hypnotic kaleidoscope. It was beautiful in the way traps were beautiful, precise, inevitable, and built from patience.

  Koshinataa stared upward.

  His Thrice Sight, some magical sight ability, didn't save him from his vision itself becoming a weapon.

  Juna doused him in jade flame while he was still looking at the sky.

  He crystallized midair and dropped like a statue losing its pedestal. Juna caught him and set him down gently.

  In the cave, Brann let out a breath he'd been holding like an old grudge. "She caught him."

  Zala's hand rose to her mouth. For a second, awe broke through her performance, reluctant but real. "Of course she did."

  Vaug's laughter rumbled out, low and bruised, and he tapped his foot once against the cave floor like an ancient heartbeat.

  Renn's recording orb hovered, capturing it all: Vaug's pride, Brann's relief, Zala's complicated shine.

  Zala's smile returned; perfect and polished. And softly, almost to herself, she said the same thing she'd said ten years ago, only dressed in nicer words.

  "Good. Now she can stop."

  Brann's head snapped toward her. "You're still doing it."

  Zala blinked. "Doing what?"

  "Waiting for the ending," Brann said. "Waiting for her to be smaller so you can breathe."

  Zala's voice sharpened. "I want her alive."

  Brann's voice matched it. "You want her manageable."

  Renn leaned toward them, the old brother reflex rising, the one where he tried to fix the room because he couldn't fix the family. "Stop. Both of you."

  Brann looked at Renn, eyes tight. "You don't get to tell me to stop when you've been soaking up her attention for fifty years."

  Renn bristled. "I didn't ask to be here."

  Brann's laugh was bitter. "No. You were called. Like you always are."

  Zala reached for Renn's shoulder, soothing, possessive. "Renn, don't listen to him. He's-"

  Vaug's cup struck the table; final, clean, undeniable.

  Silence fell like a slab.

  Vaug didn't look at Zala or at his sons. He stared at Juna on the holoview; standing on living kistal, victorious, breathing hard, not looking up for anyone's approval.

  When Vaug finally spoke, his voice was quiet enough to make everyone lean in.

  "She learned," he said. "Not because you wanted her to. Not because you were delighted when she fell. Not because you were jealous when she rose."

  He lifted his cup, took one slow sip, and set it down.

  "She learned because she's a Skipstone," Vaug said. "And because the universe keeps trying to break her."

  Zala's eyes shone, not with pride exactly, and not with delight either. Something messier.

  Renn glanced at the recording orb hovering near his shoulder, still streaming the family's fractures to anyone who wanted to watch. He felt suddenly sick of his own job.

  "Do you want me to keep recording?" he asked Vaug, voice small.

  Vaug's gaze slid to the orb, then back to Juna. "Turn it off."

  Renn hesitated. "The piece-"

  "Turn it off," Vaug repeated, and the words carried the weight of bedrock.

  Zala started to protest, then stopped. Even she knew when Vaug's voice meant law.

  Renn reached up and tapped the orb's control.

  The recording light dimmed. The viewscope drifted slightly away, like a creature told to leave the room.

  The holoview remained. Juna remained.

  And down in the cave beneath the surface of Yon, where Yuni families loved heavy and argued harder, the Skipstones watched their granddaughter win on a world that didn't know their names, while the grandmother who had once delighted in her failure, tried, with a smile too polished to be honest, to convince herself that wanting an ending was the same thing as wanting her safe.