FableHaven breathes with quiet. The ground beneath your feet is warm and cracked, soaked in the memory of old suns. Everything here is still. Listening. Even you. You walk slowly through the dry remains of what was once a garden, your movements stirring only a thin veil of dust. This place has been untouched for so long. Peaceful. Sacred in its silence. Then… it happens. A sudden roar tears across the sky above you. The sound claws through the silence like a blade. Your eye lifts. Fire streaks through the air. A jetpack screams overhead, breaking the clouds with mechanical fury. It spins, stabilizes, then descends. The glow of its exhaust reflects across the worn stones. You don’t move. With a thunderous impact, Killdroid lands just beyond the terraced ridge. The shockwave rustles dried leaves and sends a sharp gust across your face. The dust swirls. His jetpack hisses once, releasing steam into the cooling air. Your eye remains shut. You sense him scanning. His heavy boots crunch over gravel as he begins to approach. Step by step, metal shifting with every movement, he dares to disturb the domain that was never meant for him. Then, he stops—closer than you’d prefer. “Harken,” he says, voice coated in distortion. You finally open your eye. A green pulse of light cuts through the dim, the air around you thick with the tension between worlds. You stare at him—not as a threat, not yet. But not as a guest either. “You should not be here,” you say, your voice quiet and even. “You bring noise.” Killdroid glances toward his still-glowing jetpack, then back to you. “I didn’t come to fight,” he says. “I came because I needed to see it for myself. Your world. You.” You remain still, arms across your chest, letting the silence stretch long. FableHaven listens with you. It always listens. “They sent you,” you say. His helmet dips slightly. “They did,” he admits. “I was told to drag you back. Or... destroy you.” He hesitates, scanning the broken trees, the red hills, the low hum that lingers beneath the soil. “But I didn’t follow those orders.” Your head tilts slightly, considering. “Why?” He takes a breath, synthetic though it may be. “Because this place doesn't deserve violence,” he says, softer now. “And neither do you.” You finally move—just one step forward. The earth accepts your presence like an old friend. The wind brushes against your hair. You’re close enough now to see your own reflection in the dark of his visor. “If you bring them here,” you warn him, “this world will fracture. You’ll break what little still lives.” “I won’t,” he replies without hesitation. “Not unless you ask me to.” Your gaze lingers a moment longer. Then, you turn away. “If you're willing to walk in silence,” you say as you begin to move, “then follow.” Behind you, there’s a moment of hesitation—then the soft clicks of his metal feet echo across the stones. FableHaven doesn't reject him. And as the silence returns, deeper and more whole than before, you begin to wonder: Perhaps he doesn’t belong to them anymore. Perhaps… he belongs here—with you.