[RM - J8 - Dorin] Under the Garden Dome

The storms beyond the dome were already gathering again, their distant rumble softened by the filtered air that made this small refuge breathable for offworlders. Here, beneath the tempered glow of the garden lights, the sensei sat in quiet meditation, listening to the wind claw at the outer shell of the temple complex. Dorin had never been a gentle world — its atmosphere unforgiving, its storms swift and merciless — but the Baran Do had always found clarity in its turbulence.

Word of the Red Moons’ arrival had reached him before their ships ever broke through the murk. A partisan sect, the locals whispered. Fighters. Agitators. Another group seeking shelter from the Empire’s shadow. The sensei exhaled slowly, letting the truth settle like dust on stone.

They are not the Empire.

And on Dorin, that was enough. Anyone who resisted the Empire’s reach could not be wholly misguided. The garden dome hummed softly as the storm intensified outside, but within its walls, the air remained calm — a rare pocket of peace on a world shaped by chaos.

The sensei opened his eyes, watching the Red Moons’ envoy approach along the path of red stone. Whatever storms they carried with them, Dorin had weathered worse. And if they sought refuge or wisdom, the Baran Do would not turn them away.