POW: The Ripples Return

The Ripples are strong here—stronger than I’ve ever felt. It's like standing in the memory of something sacred. The water hums, the lilypads pulse with color, and the air smells like rebirth. It’s nothing like the dried-out silence I left behind. This place... it's alive.

And I’m not alone.

A whole tribe of POWs lives here—generations I never knew survived. They welcomed me like I was one of their own. No suspicion. No hesitation. Just warmth and croaks and laughter in a way I hadn’t heard in cycles.

Their leader, Chief Loro, said the pond has always protected them. Hidden deep, untouched. Shielded from the drought that swallowed our world. And Kera—his daughter—she’s been my guide, my translator, my anchor. She walks like the Ripples follow her. There’s something about her that makes this place feel less like a miracle, and more like home. For the first time in a long time… I stopped surviving. I started living.

But comfort is a dangerous thing.

Every time the moon rises, I think about Croktor's jokes. Crag’s stubborn laugh. Grubbz’s wild plans. Eldrip's quiet wisdom. I don’t know where they are..... I don’t know if they are.

But I can’t sit here and bathe in paradise while the last of my friends could still be searching—starving—fading.

I’ve started pulling apart my old comm rig. It’s rusted and half-fried, but if I can power it using the tech here—maybe, just maybe—I can send a signal. One strong enough to reach them. One last croak across the void.

If they’re still out there... they’ll hear it.

I have to believe that.

Because if I don’t… what was the point of any of this?