The request came without ceremony.
A message from Novaheim. Direct, clipped, sterile:
**Observe and record behavior patterns among Earth group 7. Project: Alignment. No engagement required. Discretion advised.**
It wasn't unusual. Earth groups were being integrated across regions. Most had adapted. Others resisted quietly, clinging to old customs, old stories, old beliefs.
Group 7 was a localized circle in the southern districts, cultural preservationists, unofficial by designation but known for safeguarding things Novaheim had deemed "nonessential."
Sawl read the file three times before closing the screen. He didn't send confirmation.
He just went.
The sky that day was clouded, pale and heavy. The kind of light that softened edges and muted noise.
He arrived alone, no escort, no uniformed team. Just a long coat over his regulation attire and a data pad he hadn't turned on.
The group had gathered in an open-air lot once used for community gatherings. No signs, no protest, no speeches. Just people laughing, cooking and playing music softly over an old speaker.
A young girl traced patterns into the dust with a stick. An elder leaned back in a plastic chair, eyes closed, mouthing words from a weathered book.
There was no resistance here.
Only remembrance.
Sawl walked the perimeter in silence, observing. The directive was clear: record their actions, tag data anomalies, report compliance levels.
He lifted the data pad, camera lens ready.
Then lowered it.
His thumb hovered over the input key.
He watched as two strangers hugged after years apart. As someone gave their last serving of food to a child. As hands held hands, not for show, but for comfort.
He didn't log anything.
He closed the device.
He turned.
And caught someone watching him.
The same man from the garden.
He stood half-shrouded by a tree at the edge of the lot, arms folded, expression unreadable. When Sawl met his eyes, the man gave a slight nod.
Then he walked away.
Sawl said nothing.
But his heart answered something invisible.
That night, the wind stirred differently.
Sawl sat alone on the rooftop of the base compound, Earth stretching out in lights and dust below him. He hadn't filed the report. He hadn't sent the scan.
He had chosen not to.
And it was in that silence that the Helper returned.
Not in words, not in sound.
In presence.
The air thickened, but not oppressively. Light danced along the edges of his vision, even though the sky was overcast. Time softened, like the weight of his body had been halved.
He stood.
And the world shifted.
He was no longer on the rooftop.
He stood in a field of golden light, grass bending in waves like music. Trees shimmered with color beyond the visible spectrum. The sky was vast, not empty, but filled with movement, like the heavens breathing.
Figures stood at the edges of the field. Not threatening. Watching. Some wore simple clothes, others robes, others garments that shimmered like liquid thought.
But all of them glowed with something he couldn't describe.
In the center of it all, a great river flowed, silent but rushing, like time itself. And at its edge, carved into a stone as old as thought, were words that burned without fire:
"The truth was never far. It was always within you."
Sawl stepped forward, breath stolen by the beauty.
As he did, the field responded.
The light grew warmer.
And then, the Helper appeared, not as a figure, but as a presence that filled everything around him. It wasn't bound by form, and yet it felt closer than touch.
The voice came again. Not thunderous this time, but steady, deep and alive.
"You wonder what holds this place together. What makes love endure. Why light still rises after darkness. You've walked far by knowledge, Sawl. But the way home is not through knowledge alone."
Sawl tried to respond, but no words came.
"There was a time when this realm was not separate. When the Creator walked among His creation, not as distant force, but as Father, as Friend, as Light. The divide came not by His hand, but through disconnection, when trust was traded for control, and love for pride."
The river shimmered brighter.
"But the Creator did not abandon the fractured. He stepped down into it. Into time. Into flesh. To heal what was broken with a love so deep, it carried the weight of every shadow. The sacrifice… was real. And so was the resurrection."
The field around him pulsed.
"This love is not religion, Sawl. It is restoration. It does not demand perfection. It invites surrender. And it waits, without forcing, until the heart is ready to see again."
Tears welled in Sawl's eyes.
"You were never alone. You were never unloved. The truth is not an idea. It is a Person. And that Person is waiting. Not to condemn you, but to walk with you back into the Light."
The figures around the field knelt, not to him, not in ritual, but in reverence to something unseen. Something so near.
And then, one final whisper:
"You saw what mattered. And now, the Light sees you."
When he opened his eyes, he was back on the rooftop.
The wind was gentle. The lights of Earth pulsed softly below.
His comm buzzed with a message from Novaheim. He didn't check it.
Instead, he whispered:
"I see it."
And the sky above him blinked like it understood.
End of Part I