The Light Will Guide You Home

Every year, it was always the same. The hustle and bustle as the B’haddu community came together to prepare. The warm smell of fresh baking wafting through the streets. The energetic hum of anticipation as the day—and most importantly, the night—of Nevriset B'Xhadari, the annual Haddu Skyfire Festival, drew nearer.

Initially, it hadn’t meant all that much. It had always been there: the festivities and traditions passed down from the Haddu people to the residents of the town, B'Haddu, which bore their name. To Firefly, the days and weeks surrounding the event had been little more than simple routine—a familiar comfort of home—that is, until their only option was to observe from a distance.

“Screens aren’t the same,” said a pale yellow Xero as he sat next to Firefly at the brightly-lit seaside bar. His body language was relaxed as he took a sip of his neon purple drink from the transparent capsule that he held in his paws, his fur adorned with the occasional cluster of dark brown spots. Firefly was immediately reminded of a banana slug. “Gotta see it with your eyes.”

“You ever been?” the shorter Xero asked the much taller stranger, using the impromptu conversation as an excuse to tear their eyes away from the giant floating screen that served as the wall behind the bustling bar. Despite being all the way out in Torini by the ocean, Firefly’s little hometown in the desert was still the big talk of local news. The spotted yellow Xero glanced down into his drink and swirled it around as he considered his answer. Firefly got the notion that he was someone of few but carefully selected words.

“Once,” the stranger replied, looking up and staring into nowhere as he recalled the experience. “It was spellbinding.”

An endless night sky composed of thousands of stars panned across the screen in Firefly’s peripheral; they didn’t even need to look at it directly to know that it was a far cry from the real thing. Homesickness nestled itself quietly in their chest as they nodded in reply and waited for the Xero beside them to go on.

“When they dim all the fires to make way for the sky,” the other Xero continued, “even the planet herself stops to watch.” His gaze remained far away for a moment before he took another sip of his drink, then turned towards Firefly with focus. His warm half-lidded brown eyes were calm. “Muse,” the Xero introduced himself, lifting a paw casually and offering it to his short companion in greeting. Firefly hadn’t realized the stranger had slimy skin until they returned the handshake and felt the odd cool and sticky sensation of the larger Xero’s paw pads against their own.

“Firefly,” the smaller Xero replied, taking extra care not to outwardly show their surprise regarding the unexpected texture of Muse’s skin. Normally, Firefly hated crowded places and social situations in general made them nervous—but on this particular evening, they welcomed the distraction. Muse simply gazed observantly down at Firefly before a lazy grin crossed his face.

“Don’t worry,” the bemused yellow Xero offered in response to Firefly’s amiable silence, “I get it all the time.” Firefly laughed nervously and nodded as they withdrew their paw, suddenly wishing they had their own drink to attend to in lieu of making eye contact. It was as if Muse was able to casually read their mind.

“Can I get you something?” the bartender asked—almost on cue—as they passed behind where the two Xeros sat.

“Uhh—Ru Berry Freeze, please,” Firefly blurted out, hoping that whatever was in it would be enough to shave the edge off their nerves. In addition to the general commotion of the bar and the awkward feeling that they may have just offended someone, there was a heaviness in their chest as they turned back toward the screen before them and watched the Torini news coverage on B’Haddu. Something didn’t feel right—and they were beginning to wonder if it was them.

“And you?” Muse asked, yanking Firefly’s attention back to the present and away from their troubled thoughts for the moment. “Nevriset B'Xhadari—you been?”

“Yeah,” Firefly replied honestly as the bartender slid them their drink—in a blue color bright enough to be its own light source—hoping their voice didn’t carry the true weight of their feelings. “Every single year until just a couple ago. I grew up in B’Haddu.”

Muse nodded, seemingly unsurprised as he took another sip of his drink.

“Miss it?” Muse asked as he glanced back up at the red caves being shown on the screen before it transitioned to showing an aerial view of B’Haddu at nighttime lit up by dozens of scattered bonfires.

Firefly simply nodded as they looked away and took the biggest swig of their neon blue drink that they could muster, the cold sensation coating their throat and giving them something else rather welcome to focus on.

“I get it. Ocean’s nice,” Muse replied as he stared contentedly forward, “but it’s not home.”

“Where is home for you…?” Firefly asked as they set their drink down and turned toward Muse again, suddenly curious as to what might bring a fellow Xero all the way out to the Earle Sea from elsewhere.

“Jurupa Forest,” Muse said plainly, his gaze far away for a moment before he smiled and looked Firefly in the eyes. “Beautiful. Rotting logs, dead trees… so much decay.” The sparkle in his eyes spoke of fondness, but his words didn’t really make any sense. “Not like the sea,” he continued as he turned his focus out past the open walls of the bar and glanced towards the water beyond. “I’m just visiting. Sea decays different. I came here to study it.”

“Decay…?” Firefly asked, confused. “I don’t get it. Wouldn’t that make you want to leave?”

The larger Xero smiled.

“Not at all,” Muse said calmly. “Decomposition is the final transition phase of all organic matter, the most important step for life to start anew. Without it, almost nothing as we know it would exist,” he explained. For a Xero of so little words mere moments before, he suddenly poured with them. “Everything in existence that ever lived came from that cycle,” he added as he stared back up at the screen. “Even us.”

Firefly was about to correct him—knowing that all currently existing Xeros had to get their start in a lab—but the more they considered it, the more it began to make sense. Their home planet was decimated by the decay of their sun. All known life on its surface was destroyed. If it weren’t for the dire circumstances that faced their ancestors, Alurizan explorers would have never discovered the species now recognized as Xeros—much less saved them from their inevitable destruction—and they wouldn’t presently exist on OWAI-6 as advanced genetic lifeforms.

“I guess… you’re right,” Firefly said slowly. “I never really thought about it that way.”

Muse smiled a calm, friendly smile.

“Now you have,” he said simply with a shrug. “Remember: nature lives only when nature dies.”

Something about the conversation was comforting to Firefly. They hadn’t known the pale spotted Xero much longer than an hour, but there was a wisdom about him that made Firefly feel otherwise. It was as if Muse spoke in riddles, but also directly; his philosophy seemed to match eerily well with everything Firefly had been wrestling with.

“I thought I knew what I wanted,” Firefly said as they stared out towards the waves before meeting Muse’s eyes, “which was to be a diver. The natural light and extra propulsion helps,” they chuckled as they raised their second pair of arms and wiggled all sixteen glowing paw pads at the tips of their fingers. “But… maybe,” they sighed as they dropped their arms and turned forward again to stare down into the bottom of their drink, “maybe I was mistaken. Don’t get me wrong, I love diving—and the weather here is really nice. But the sky’s not the same,” they lamented as they turned their eyes back up at the screen that continued to show the B’Haddu festivities, “the stars aren’t the same.“

“Neither are you,” Muse offered. “You moved, you lived, you experienced. So you’re homesick. What’s stopping you from going back?”

Firefly paused for a moment before they answered the question.

“I dunno,” they replied. “Feeling like a… failure, I guess…?”

“Nonsense,” Muse countered with a tiny chuckle. “Some places are nice to live, some are nice to visit. You didn’t fail,” he shrugged. “You just figured out the difference.”

Firefly nodded, but said nothing.

“Well… it’s been nice chatting,” Firefly said with a smile after a considerable stretch of conversational silence, “but I should go. I’ve got a lot to think about.”

After finishing their drink and thanking Muse again for the chat, Firefly left the crowded bar and headed down to the waterline along the shore. While it was true they had a lot to think about, something inside their gut felt different than it had that morning. They felt lighter somehow—as if the gnawing, empty cavern in their chest was suddenly full of hot air.

You didn’t fail. You just figured out the difference.

Maybe those nine simple words were all they needed.

~~~

“Will you be attending the Midnight Ensemble this year, dear?” asked a tall Haddu, the bridge of her nose draped with a delicate gold chain adorned with bright, glowing Skyfire gems. “It has been a couple of years now, if memory serves.”

“You bet I am,” Firefly replied, their eyes shining with excitement as they tilted their head back to meet the Haddu’s gentle gaze far above them in the warmly-lit dug-out stall. “It’s one of my favorite parts.”



The Haddu chuckled affectionately as they gathered several loaves of freshly stone-fired bread into a basket before bending down and offering the one on the top to Firefly, who gladly took it.



“Maybe next year I’ll even bring my friend Muse,” Firefly added as they took their first bite of the delicious handmade loaf as though it were about to spontaneously disappear. 



“We’re all very glad of your return,” the Haddu offered genuinely, holding the basket full of warm bread in her hands as she turned toward the doorway toward the back of the stall that appeared to lead back into the kitchens. “You know, it’s always a little brighter in B’Haddu when you’re around.”



Firefly beamed, their face glowing nearly as bright as the rest of them as they trotted along behind, enthused and eager to continue to help with preparations.

Every year, it was always the same. 



But this year, Firefly wouldn’t miss it for the world.