Rather than sleeping in my room like I should have been doing, I climbed my way to the roof of the estate after I was sure that the other two were asleep.

It was around midnight, and I resituated myself up on the slanted tiled roof, gazing up at the stars. I had been a regular stargazer for as long as I can remember, and I was able to tell instantly that all the stars viewed from this planet were completely different to the arrangement that Lylatians are used to. That only made the reality even clearer that I was nowhere close to my home system; the fact that I was also supposedly in another universe on top of it only rubbed salt in the wound.

I was able to put this off for a couple of days, but I was growing restless and couldn't sleep. The friendships I had already made with Aaron and Ben were wonderful, but I knew I was out of place here. So, I did what I normally defaulted to when my thoughts were overwhelming or when my heart ached: I meditated.

I lay flat on my back, resting my laced hands over my stomach. I closed my eyes and tried to relax. I cannot speak for most, but I can easily separate myself from my temporal form and drift across space. It is in this dreamlike state where I can hear the voices and whispers of all who dwell in the Lylat system; their desires, their waking toils and ambitions, and even their dreams if I were focused enough.

This was how I was able to still connect myself with the civilizations throughout Lylat when living a nomadic early life on Fortuna. I might have been on my own for most of my life, but I never felt truly alone. If anything, perhaps I never was on my own in a cosmic sense.

Here on Earth, I was still able to resonate with the global populous, but these were not the voices I knew. Unvoiced wails of despair and helplessness resounded across the entirety of the planet as what remained of the human race suffered underneath the oppressive reign of the Combine. It was almost too much for me to fully handle at the moment.

I wished to hear what was familiar; the people of my realm. Maybe if I were to concentrate hard enough, I would somehow hear the echoes of my worlds outside this alien universe. I did not have anything to lose when trying.

"'Heidt A we… Ro0edt kxo whouk opfudjo… Ak aj kxoho nxoho m0 rocelot unuakj… Xouh m0 leaso… Xouh m0 succ, m0 touh celo…"

Strangely, I began reciting this Saurian poem I learned long ago to myself while in this trance, only semi-aware that I was even doing it. It was about a lover's longing for their mate and their willingness to surpass existence itself to find them. That might have been far more relevant to me than what I was willing to confront at the time.

An unmeasured amount of time had passed, and I heard nothing from my home system. I had reached out into the cosmos as far as I could, but it seemed like I didn't have what it took to reach past my present reality, even for a thieving glimpse. It was disheartening, but not unexpected. This was not one of my more fulfilling self-meditation sessions, for I awoke in a body that was much more tense before my initiated ascension. There was, however, one thing that had changed while I was entranced: I sensed Ben sitting right beside me.

"You leave your body often," he stated in that growling tone of voice of his.

I was not startled by him and only turned to look at him. He was perched on the slanted tiled roof close to me, fully awake as he too gazed up at the starry night sky―his warm red eyes almost glowing in the dark. I wasn't quite sure how to greet him given that he appeared so discretely and already made himself comfortable up here, so all I did was affirm his statement because it was true.

"It's one of the few ways I can reliably clear my mind," I said, leaning forward, covering my mouth as a heavy yawn came about. "But…I suppose I missed the point this time around."

"Maybe so," Ben considered, "but you have tried just as hard in the past. Many times. I am able to feel this much in you."

I looked at my vortigaunt friend and found his words intriguing. "What compels you to assume that?"

Ben then looked at me―his largest eye in the centre of his face seemed to simmer like a bed of hot coals. "You bear the gaze of a searcher," he said, turning his body. "You are a seeker of answers. I decipher the notion that you do not meditate for the mere act of thoughtful remedy alone. You use your gifts as tools to retrieve missing fragments of yourself. It has brought you to many places, yet you are no closer to finding them than when you first started. For reasons that I know are dear and vital to you, you have not revealed everything there is to know about you. Intuition incites me to believe that even in your own realm, you also struggle to find your place among those who welcome you."

I wasn't quite sure how to tackle Ben's assessment of me because it was incredibly perceptive. I knew early on that Ben was on a whole different level from Aaron, which was why I wasn't as surprised when he deduced my lifelong plight without hardly ever interacting with me. With that being said, he pinpointed one of my greatest vulnerabilities, and that didn't make it any easier to explain myself to one who earnestly wished to know like Ben was. He would now be among the handful to know who and what I was.

"I'm the last of my kind," I admitted solemnly, returning my gaze to the sky like I always did when dreaming about my lost home. "My world and its people had been destroyed by a calamity long forgotten. I have spent my whole life trying to find out what happened to Cerinia and the Cerinians, but what limited means I had to even hope for the smallest clue has not been successful. I worry I may never reclaim what remains of my home and my people. All that my parents had left me was my life, my staff, and the subconscious knowledge that they and all that we were have ceased to be."

"Hmmmmm…" Ben growled thoughtfully, crossing his hoofed feet. "Your parents performed an honourable deed in sparing you of their fate. It was a decision that I know has had a profound impact on the people who adopted you as one of their own."

I couldn't be sure if he knew this for certain or if he was just trying to lighten my spirits. Either way, I gave him an appreciative smile, but I wasn't able to maintain it long before I looked away from him. Being an acute reader of body language, Ben reacted. "Why do you doubt, Krystal?"

I began to tuck in my legs to where I could rest my chin on my knees, looking down at the grassy ground below us as my tail curled around my ankles. "I sometimes wonder why it was me that was the only Cerinian to survive," I admitted with a heavy sigh. "I don't know what role my parents expected for me when reaching maturity. I had once believed that I found my place amongst a small group of incredible people not too long ago, but I fear that may have been an illusion. As capable as I am on my own…returning to that frightens me."

Ben was silent as he pondered my confession. I had always been keenly protective over my past and the full extent of my motivations; entrusting only a handful with it like Fox and the others. I never found it in myself to make them feel obligated to take me in when I was offered a spot on their team after the plight of Sauria. I wished to join a family organically, without any perceived liabilities, but perhaps it was my fault for assuming that a group of well-trained mercenaries would be equipped to make me the home I never had.

"I know your plight well, Krystal. It is a burden that is branded deep within the vortigaunt," Ben said, reeling in my attention. "We are no strangers to isolation and exile. We have endured countless struggles, withstood the wrath of many tyrants, only to find liberation before the yoke of oppression starts choking us again."

The small arm on his chest flexed its claws a couple of times as he looked at me more directly. "The vortigaunt have found ourselves scattered across the dimensions, lost or in hiding from those who pursue us. Though we are spaced across the spaces, we are not separated. The vortessence is what keeps us as one. We mutually partake in each other's grief, our pain, and our jubilation. It is clear that you are not much different from our brood; your own vortal chord is as viable as is prerequired to transcend these mortal planes."

He adjusted his sitting stance a little as he shuffled a little closer to me, which nudged me to mirror him. "However, you differ in one crucial aspect from us, and that is because you are alone," he said gravely, doing little to soften the cruel truth. "The vortigaunt continues to persist ahead of the tailing jaws of extinction, and your kind has fallen prey to it. You are all that remains. Such a prospect is truly alien to us. Yet to you, it is all that you have ever known."

It wasn't often I got emotional, especially over something I already knew, but having it spoken back to me like this only reinforced the gloom I had been managing throughout my life. I could feel my eyes starting to sting after Ben finished his sentence. I closed and rubbed them with my fingers to suppress that dreadful urge to let a pesky hint of a sob out.

"I wish it weren't so…" I said, a little shaky in my voice.

"We cannot overrule what fate has bestowed upon us all," Ben reassured, caressing the fur on my cheek. "Your family and your people could not have prevented what had happened any more than the people of this world could have prevented their own current misery. For all the torture and desecrations that the vortigaunt has endured throughout the eternities, we are a race that seemingly has been favoured by the concept of luck when compared to most others facing an identical struggle."

"I would not say that my plight is worse than yours," I insisted, holding up my hand and gently closing it around his wrist. "The Combine have enslaved your people. My people may be gone, but they did not have to suffer through the humiliation that chafes yours."

Ben made a soft, fangy smirk. "I am not instigating a wager between travesties, Krystal. I am expressing that you are living proof that hope for your people yet persists, even after their extinction."

Such a claim made me both sceptical and curious. "What do you mean by that?"

"I alone cannot determine the specifics of it," Ben explained. "There is much the vortigaunt can learn from you, even when you think you have nothing to teach. And just as well, you have much to learn from us. You may not be aware of the answers that you may not know you already have."

I removed my hand from him as he retracted his arm, finding what Ben was saying rather confusing, yet I could feel a truthful substance behind what he was saying. "I'm…afraid I don't understand."

"You are not meant to―not at this time," Ben reassured. "Before we reach Red Bay, I will alert my kin to convene with us there. We will hope to unearth the truth behind your people's fate, so that it may help us take our stand here upon this miserable rock. Of course, such an endeavour is only allowed to commence by your will alone."

What was I meant to say to such a vague offer? Before my stranding on Earth, I would have been immensely sceptical of anyone claiming to be the one who would determine what happened to Cerinia and its people, yet I knew that wasn't quite what Ben was suggesting. How could he have the confidence to assume that I had the answers when for most of my life I had been trying to find them by too many means to count? I would have otherwise felt indignant and offended by anyone mocking me with that kind of talk, but I could feel that Ben was earnest in all that he said and did.

Perhaps he was able to see something in me that I wasn't capable of seeing. I knew nothing of Ben's race or the kinds of mysticism that they dwelt in, but he emitted a surety that I wasn't accustomed to seeing in other people. What could a larger group of vortigaunts see in me?

"I think that I should sleep on it if that's all right," I folded, willing to humour his proposal at least for the night.

"It is best that we both get rest," Ben nodded in agreement. "Let us both return to our lofts; we have a journey to be ready for by daybreak."

"That is for certain."

Me and Ben both leapt off the roof, which wasn't a long fall, before landing on the grass. Ben had landed on his hands and feet in a manner that made me realise that his species might have been semi-quadrupedal. "I suppose I'll see you in the morning, Ben," I said as he rose to his two feet. "Goodnight. And…thank you."

Ben returned a humble nod before we both inevitably returned inside for our beds. "Goodnight, Krystal."