Ashes and Aether

Introduction

I still remember the scent of the air that day — crisp and oddly sweet, like the roasted caramel glaze we used in our final presentation week. The grand hall of the Velherrin Culinary Institute glittered with lights, banners floating high above like colorful wings. This was the capital star of the Drakoryan Empire, Atrion Prime, and for one afternoon, it felt like the very heart of the galaxy pulsed here.

My name is Kaelith Fritz, and I had just graduated from the most prestigious culinary school in the Empire. I stood among a sea of robes, the navy and gold lining of Velherrin marking us as the best in our field, and perhaps even more important, as the brightest culinary hopes of our age.

My parents, Marina and Juno Fritz, were seated in the second row — my mother dabbing her eyes and my father smiling with quiet pride, arms crossed like he was watching the season finale of his favorite drama. They had built their food empire from scratch, opening the first Fritz Flamehouse in one of Atrion’s smaller commercial districts, and turning it into a beloved franchise scattered across trade planets. I owed them everything — but they understood when I said I wanted to forge my own path, and they never once pushed me to inherit the family business.

When my name echoed from the voice of our Headmaster, High Chef Ravvian, my pulse quickened.

“Kaelith Fritz — Distinction in Xenobotany and Therapeutic Gastronomy.”

The applause burst like fireworks in my chest. I stepped forward, shook the Headmaster’s hand — or rather, his four-fingered root-hand, since Ravvian was a proud Mycanian — and received my scroll, which shimmered with the institute’s sigil. It was official: I was no longer a student. I was a specialist. A chef.

The graduation ceremony concluded with a banquet like no other. Over a dozen fusion dishes from every major race were prepared by faculty and select graduates. We mingled under floating candles and anti-gravity lanterns, tasting meals crafted by hands from every system in the empire. The harmony of spices, the blend of interstellar culinary techniques—it was a celebration of more than achievement. It was a feast of dreams.

But while most of my batchmates were already receiving offers from five-star kitchens, cruise liners, or royal palaces, I had my eyes set somewhere else — the stars.

---

It wasn’t a whim.

From the moment I heard about the Nyxbound Expedition, my heart had latched onto it like a ship to a docking ring. This was the Empire’s boldest venture yet — an initiative to reignite the exploration of unknown planetary systems. While the previous missions had dwindled due to budget constraints and political delays, a renewed command had been formed under someone with enough gravity to pull the program back together.

Commander Cael Dravon.

The moment I saw his profile — stoic, proud, a war hero with eyes like midnight obsidian — I knew this was the kind of fleet I wanted to serve. Not just because of his reputation, though admittedly, the idea of working under a black dragon commander sparked something fluttery and dangerous in my chest. No, it was because the mission represented possibility. And I wanted to feed that possibility. To nourish it. To remind those walking through dead stars and hostile worlds that they were alive.

I applied through the official embassy portal — and then followed up every week. I sent samples. I offered to cook live for their recruitment officers. I even found an old friend of a friend who had a cousin on the support deck of a scout vessel just to send in a referral.

Finally, after two months of relentless pursuit and rejections that began with “regret to inform” and ended with “overqualified for ground-based operations,” I received a ping.

A message with the Drakoryan emblem.

"You have been selected to join the culinary personnel for the E.S. Nyxbound, under Specialist assignment.
Report to Docksphere V within five standard day cycles."

I whooped so loud, I scared three people in the skybus.

The next few days were a blur — goodbyes, packing, triple-checking my knives and spice samples, and one last dinner with my parents at our favorite open-air restaurant on Atrion Prime’s upper rings. They hugged me, told me how proud they were, and my mom slipped a little pouch of saffron stars into my jacket “for homesick days.”

And then I was off.

Through the lightrails, into the orbiting shuttle stations, and up through the flickering shields of the Docksphere, I stepped onto the ramp leading into the heart of my dream.

The E.S. Nyxbound.

Gleaming black hull. Energy veins running across its surface like glowing constellation scars. A massive beast of a ship. Elegant and dangerous.

My adventure had just begun.

INFO:

Mycanians are a plant-based sentient species native to the verdant moon of Lothae Prime. Distinguished by their bark-like skin, bioluminescent root-hair tendrils, and a natural affinity for growth and symbiosis, Mycanians are renowned across the empire for their mastery in botanical sciences and gastronomy. They do not consume food in the traditional sense but instead absorb nutrients through photosynthetic and soil-based methods. Their limbs often resemble flexible vines or branching roots, and they possess an innate ability to sense changes in organic material — making them exceptional chefs, healers, and agricultural specialists.