[RM - J8 - Dorin] Envoys Beneath the Dome

Vasher Drayn stepped lightly beneath the sheltering branches, the red scarf at his throat catching the filtered breeze. Dorin’s garden domes were quiet in a way few worlds ever managed — a calm carved out of chaos. His envoys followed, each reacting to the serenity in their own familiar fashion.

Karn Vesh, the kaminoan scout, tilted his head as if listening for threats only he could hear. “Feels wrong,” he muttered. “Air this clean means someone’s hiding something.”

Tirra Solune, green‑skinned and ever the optimist, brushed her fingers across a vibrant pink bloom. “Or it means they’re protecting something worth the trouble,” she countered. “A world that fights its storms can fight anything.”

Jax Renn, the heavy‑gunner still buzzing from their descent, landed beside them with a thud of armored boots. “I swear,” he said, adjusting the massive repeater slung across his chest, “if the sky doesn’t try to kill me for five minutes, I start thinking I’m dead.”

Mira Talven, quiet and sharp‑eyed, studied the temple’s guardians with a tactician’s focus. “They’re not afraid of us,” she observed. “That’s rare.”

Vasher listened to them all, but his gaze stayed on the sensei across the red‑stone path. No hostility. No fear. Just curiosity — the kind that suggested a mind not easily swayed by rumor or reputation.

He dipped his head in greeting, respectful but never deferential. The Red Moons didn’t kneel, not even to mystics. But they honored those who stood against tyranny, in whatever quiet way they chose.

“Strange place,” Karn murmured again.

Vasher allowed himself a small smile. “Strange isn’t hostile.”

Beneath the dome’s soft glow, he felt something unexpected: stillness. A world that didn’t flinch at their colors. A teacher who didn’t judge their cause.

Maybe, Vasher thought, this is what it feels like when a planet hasn’t given up yet.

And for the first time since landing, he let his shoulders ease.