"Well, first things first—we're safe. Or… we should be. They left us this spot to settle in temporarily, but we'll have to build our own shelters if we want them. They also asked us to learn their language before contacting them again."

"That moment you stepped back quickly… what happened?" Imani asks, his eyes sharp.

"That… I'm not sure. A test, maybe? All I can say is, if that person had wanted me dead, I'd be dead right now. We all would."

"Have you learned anything more about them? How big is this civilization? How powerful are they?" Arjun asks.

"I can gather a few things from the dictionary they sent and the visuals. I'd say they're big, yeah—big as in massive cities, fortresses, and military forces in the tens of thousands. And they have some very powerful individuals. Their hierarchy seems to be based on personal strength… tied to their progression in the Pillar and Body Paths. But there's more to it. Something I don't fully understand yet. It's also connected to the equipment they wear, and some kind of technique to channel and store EM energy in their bodies."

"You mean like Imani does?" Arjun asks.

"Well… I don't know," I shrug.

We fall quiet for a moment. No one seems sure what to say.

"Anyway," I continue, "I'll send you all the sorted knowledge in the exact format they used. Just give me a second to repack it."

I sit down cross-legged and compress the wave into a clean structure—tagging it with a visual anchor, indexing the most common phonetic and symbol structures first, just like they did. Then I fire it off, a single clean pulse to each of them.

They go quiet as they receive it.

A few seconds pass.

Then Mei lets out a slow breath. "That's… a lot."

"I wasn't expecting a full linguistic packet," Diego says, fingers twitching lightly as he starts parsing it in his head.

"Feels weird having someone just give it like that," Arjun adds. "I guess it's a show of trust?"

"Or a test," I reply. "Either way, it means we're not fighting them. At least not now. So let's not mess it up."

I glance around at the patch of land we've been given.

"Alright. We need shelter. Fast. There's wood around us, and some of the trees look workable. But we don't leave the boundaries they marked. Don't approach the village, don't interact with the locals, don't wander off. I mean it. We've been tolerated, not welcomed."

They all nod.

"We'll split into pairs, minimal cutting—just what we need. No fires unless absolutely necessary, and keep the area clean. I don't know what their customs are, but if we trash the place, that trust disappears instantly."

Imani nods.

"Mei, Arjun—start mapping out structural layouts for quick shelters. Use EM anchors to stabilize the framework. I'll take Diego and Greg to gather only dry branches. Sari, manage the food rations and water—we should have enough for about a week, so let's avoid hunting or asking for supplies for now."

"And the language?" Mei asks.

I nod. "Start studying right away. Even if you don't memorize everything, get the sentence structure down. We don't get to interact until we send them a signal on the frequency they gave me. When we're ready, I'll send it."

They all nod again.

It's a start.

Chiara watched as the hovering platform began to slow, the low hum beneath it fading into a more stable oscillation as it approached.

She, Lukas, and Wang stood still—deliberately visible—positioned at the edge of the open field with no cover around them. It was a calculated display. Non-threatening, but not weak.

Then, three of the six constructs stepped off the platform in perfect synchronicity. Their movements were smooth but unmistakably heavy, like precision-machined limbs working under constant correction.

Each was nearly two meters tall, with polished copper plating shaped to resemble musculature. The lattice-work along their joints adjusted with each step, hissing softly as magnetically controlled locks shifted with tiny pulses. Their obsidian-like eyes remained unlit, but they turned sharply toward the trio.

Chiara's senses flared.

A wave hit them. A transmission.

She filtered it instantly, breaking it into layers before allowing her minds to begin parsing. There were structures within the wave… patterns… rhythms. Not natural. Communication.

But the structure wasn't one she recognized. No familiar linguistic harmonics. Just the faint impression of order—an attempt at meaning. Still foreign. Still opaque.

She turned to Lukas, her brow lightly furrowed.

"They're trying to communicate."

"I got it too," Lukas said, posture calm. "They are not hostile. On guard, sure, but they didn't lead with weapons. That means they're open to diplomacy."

Chiara nodded slowly.

"Try to return something," Lukas added. "Anything they might interpret as intelligent structure. Maybe a fundamental from the Pillar or even the First Pillar State."

Chiara took a breath and closed her eyes for a moment.

She swept through her internal catalogue, selecting a low-complexity frequency alignment. A simple lattice sequence from the base Pillar framework: a harmonic she'd refined a while ago to sync multi-node systems across short mental distances. It wasn't language, but it was ordered thought. A clear signal of cognitive EM control.

Then, she coded a pulse with the information. She sent it towards them.

The constructs halted.

All three tilted their heads in near-unison toward her.

Chiara opened her eyes. "That did something," she murmured.

Wang nodded silently beside her, ready for anything.

Lukas remained calm, his poker face unshaken as he tracked the minute shifts in the constructs' posture—and the subtle reactions from the humans behind them.

Seconds passed before the platform slowed to a halt.

Two of the humans remained at the rear, their hands still resting on the crystalline nodes embedded in the hovering craft. The third stepped forward.

Fine metallic filaments traced across his helmet, wrapping along his temples and jawline like polished veins of silver.

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He descended with control, not jumping, but gliding smoothly down the last meter, his movement precise and effortless.

One of the constructs beside him followed a beat later. Its descent was heavier, mechanical. It landed with a firm thud beside the man and adjusted its stance, limbs flexing with dense, coiled strength.

They advanced together. Step for step.

He halted roughly five meters away. Then, without a word, he placed his right hand over his chest and lowered his left across his side. His head dipped forward in a motion that felt somewhat ceremonial.

Chiara didn't respond.

She didn't know what it meant. Respect? Challenge? Something else?

Then a pulse struck her senses.

She filtered it carefully—and understood.

It was a greeting. A signal of recognition. Contained within the waveform were elements of structure—fragments of language, ritual, and emotion. Symbolic, but not merely so. More than that, there was a diagram that resembled, very closely, the First Pillar State.

Chiara exhaled slowly, surprised, and turned toward Lukas. He met her gaze and gave a subtle nod.

Her response was immediate.

She sent out two brief pulses.

The first encoded a variation of the unique signature of her First Pillar State. The second pulse was deeper, layered—an incomplete but unmistakable impression of the Second Pillar State.

The man reacted with only a slight intake of breath. His chest expanded. His stance stiffened for half a second before settling again.

He murmured something under his breath—too quiet to make out.

Then he bowed lower than before. Not submission, but… something closer to respect.

And the construct beside him lowered its head too. Slowly.

He then sent another pulse.

One that carried a sense of acknowledgment and deep respect. And with it came a name, or perhaps a title:

Itz'maatl.

The sound arrived almost embedded in the wave—a phonetic imprint paired with cultural memory.

Chiara remained motionless, a bit stunned by the way this was going. She was unsure how to react—

"What did you send them?" Lukas asked.

"A diagram of the Second Pillar State with certain variations."

"I see… that seems to mean quite a bit to them. There's clear respect in his stance. I believe you should proceed with diplomacy then."

"What, me? I—"

"It's okay. I'll guide you."

Lukas took a slow step forward beside her, his voice calm, controlled.

"Maintain posture—shoulders squared, spine tall. They seem to value formality. Respond as an equal, not a supplicant."

Chiara inhaled deeply and mirrored his stance, adjusting her posture with measured ease. Lukas's presence beside her was grounding, like a steady tuning fork against the strange rhythm of what she was beginning to think of as a ritual.

He glanced sideways, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he studied the man before them.

"There's something about this," Lukas said under his breath. "Their colors. The symmetry in their clothing. That rod—decorated, but functional. The way he moved his hand over his chest. It's not random."

Chiara's brow twitched. "You recognize the structure?"

"Not exactly. But it reminds me of something. Ancient American civilizations, maybe… similar cadence to certain Aztec or Mexica ceremonial greetings. It could be coincidence, or…"

He trailed off, but Chiara didn't need the end of the sentence. The Tower had shown a habit of echoing Earth's aesthetics in strange, refracted ways—like a dream remembering itself through a thousand filters.

"The Tower draws on familiarity," Lukas murmured.

Chiara gave a small nod, then turned her focus back to the man.

The construct beside him remained still, its weapon now at rest but clearly ready if things turned. Its low hum buzzed faintly at the edge of Chiara's senses, like a constant reminder that diplomacy had a sharp edge if misplayed.

Another wave came, this one slower. Less information-dense.

"He's offering you a chance to respond," Lukas said. "You've established yourself as a talented Pillar user apparently. That likely gives you standing in their hierarchy. Now show your intent. Carefully."

Chiara sent a pulse. It carried a diagram of mutual recognition, a harmonic echoing the earlier greeting, layered with compressed visual segments: their arrival, their restraint, their neutrality. Then, at the end, a modified Pillar lattice—simpler than hers, but focused on harmony and synchronisation.

The man tilted his head, as if processing it. His lips moved again, and another pulse followed.

This one was brief—just a single wave.

Chiara caught it. Understood enough.

"He's acknowledging it," she said quietly. "But he wants to know who we are—and what our intentions are."

Lukas clicked his tongue softly. "Makes sense. A people built around EM control and hierarchy won't waste time on outsiders without purpose."

"What do I say?"

"Tell him…" Lukas paused, calculating. "Tell him we don't know yet—but we come with respect. That we seek to learn. Maybe even join them, in some way. But be confident—don't make us sound like aimless refugees. We're travelers with purpose and good intentions. Let him see that we may be of value to them too."

Chiara nodded slowly, constructing the pulse with care. Her three minds adjusted tones, shaped structure, and layered meaning like interwoven threads.

She sent it.

The man stood in silence for a long moment.

Then, he raised a hand.

A pulse followed. Chiara filtered it as it came. This one was different from the previous communications. It wasn't a message of greeting or boundary-setting.

It was… an invitation of sorts.

The pulse carried visuals this time—an image of the same field they stood in, seen from above, then the river snaking northward. Along its curve, far in the distance—more than two hundred kilometers away—rose the outlines of a large structure. Blocky, tiered, dark stone. Copper ribs arcing from its sides. A settlement of some kind.

The image zoomed out as if tracing the path—riverside plateaus, branching trails, three more pulse beacons dotted along the way. Routes.

Chiara blinked once and looked to Lukas.

"He's showing us a place," she said softly. "An outpost, farther north, with many more of them there."

Lukas nodded. "How detailed? How far?"

"Roughly 250 kilometers. Maybe more, depending on terrain. The visuals are a bit blurry around the settlement—clearly not sharing too many details."

"Send him this," Lukas said. "Tell him there are eleven of us total. That we'd like to travel there and meet—only if it wouldn't trouble them. And make it clear we'll respect their customs and space."

Chiara nodded again. She wrapped the count of their number in a simple symbol cluster, expressed non-aggression, and paired it with a soft waveform of ritualized intent—careful steps, hands open, weapons lowered.

When the message reached the man, he turned slightly, exchanged a glance with the other operator still aboard the platform, then stepped forward.

He reached to his belt and produced a small object—thin, round, and dark. It looked almost like a stone disk, but embedded with a soft metallic spiral along one side. He walked forward and stopped just within arm's reach.

He extended it toward Chiara.

She hesitated for a second, then accepted it.

As soon as her fingers touched it, a pulse bloomed—brief but clear. A coded signature. A frequency anchor.

Chiara's mind read it as a personal link. It was tied to him.

"He says," she translated, voice steady, "when we reach that place—we're to contact him through this."

Lukas gave a short nod. "Anything else?"

Chiara paused.

"Yes," she said. Her expression sharpened slightly. "A final warning. He says we will be watched. And any sign of threat or disrespect when we arrive… will not be tolerated."

Lukas exhaled quietly. "Reasonable."

He turned toward the distant river path, already calculating the route and timing.

"Then we start preparing. Tomorrow, we move north."

Behind them, the constructs began to move.

Three stepped back onto the platform in flawless unison, the weight of their limbs barely shifting the structure. The two remaining humans—silent until now—lifted their hands to the crystalline nodes embedded in the control deck. The platform hummed with renewed charge.

The man that approached her gave them one last look. His eyes locked briefly with Chiara's—sharp, unreadable, but not cold. Then he turned without a word and stepped aboard with his construct.

The platform rose an arm's length from the grass, then began to glide away, smoothly cutting across the plains with its escort of gleaming constructs.

They had passed beyond the nearest ridge, vanishing into the haze of sunlight and wind.

Chiara looked down at the artifact in her hand.

Itz'maatl. Was that his name? Or perhaps his title? She was not sure.

Either way, he had opened a door to potential new knowledge.

And now, it was up to them to walk through it.

Would they find the others there?

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