The first thing Megrez had done upon crawling away from the battlefield with the Velencians was go to her planet and pass out.

She’d sustained some particularly nasty injuries after trying to punch out Lyndin in the middle of his charged attack (objectively unwise, but that rarely failed to stop her) and only had the wherewithal to crawl out and leap planets afterwards. She wasn’t sure how long she had been unconscious on her planet for, only that it was long enough for her planet’s energy to staunch the worst of the wounds. Groaning, she pulled herself up to sitting, scratching at a dirt smudge on her cheek and shaking her head to clear the dust out.

She’d landed in front of the cathedral ruins again, which was nice, she supposed. Some sections still had a roof, so if it started raining, she’d be dry for a bit. Did it ever really rain here? The weather always felt kind of generically pleasant, maybe okay and slightly overcast at the worst, which was a little strange now that she actually thought about it.

Since the world transfer had been sending her to this cathedral so much, Megrez had been taking advantage of her visits to try and clean up the area, or at least move some of the rubble out of the way. It was a bit difficult to clear a thousand or so years of dust and dirt off the surfaces, but she’d made a mental note to make that her next project when she could. Of course, given the sheer imprecision of world transfer, she would probably gather her cleaning materials and then get spat out somewhere with nothing to clean. Better to have it with her than not, she supposed.

She was going to stand up and enter the cathedral itself, but something else caught her eye. There was a small plant growing where the stone of the cathedral met the ground, and dangling from the tip was what appeared to be a walnut with some sort of gossamer fluffy substance at its base. It’s a nut with wings, Megrez mused. A literal Wingnut. She stared at it for a few solid seconds, willing some vision to elaborate on the use and purpose of the new plant, but then decided she should spend her possible vision for the visit on something else.

She finally got up and entered the main foyer of the cathedral, her sore body complaining all along the way. A shaft of light shone in through a long-broken window, and floating along the trail of light was an unexpected sight: large, golden-winged butterflies flapping through the space, darting around as though aiming for somewhere in particular but not too particular. The picturesque scene kept Megrez’s attention, making her stare as she mulled it over. Planets weren’t supposed to have anything more than grass and ruins on them. Is life really returning to my planet?

She held her hand out to see if a butterfly would land on it, and a vision overlaid itself over the flapping flock. Melantha watched a puffski pull at a heap of plucked wingnuts with the stems and fluff still attached; it appeared to be tugging at the fluff and stretching it, almost pressing it into some kind of blanket or puffy cushion or nesting item. “Making yourself comfortable over there?” Melantha asked the puffski, who puu-buu’d what sounded like an affirmative. “I bet it’s nice when it gets cold. And…” She sighed heavily. “At least someone can be comfortable in this place.”

Megrez wanted so badly to ask her past self for elaboration, but then the vision ended, broken up by a stray butterfly landing on her hand. It settled, its wings bobbing gently, then flapped away as it determined there were other places to inspect.

A swell of undefinable emotion made her sink to her knees, the beginnings of tears blurring her vision. How long had had she been coming to her world to dig up the truth of her beginning? How long had it guided her when no one else would? And here she was now, staring at the beginnings of returning life.

It almost makes me think that everything might someday be alright.

[~700 words. Megrez can return to her planet one more time in this 7-day period (1/12 to 1/19).]