Misora keade

On a scorched world beyond mapped space, Commander Misora Keade stepped into history. The first lifeform she encountered was not hostile, but watchful—a fire humanoid emerging from volcanic stone. Their skin glowed light orange like embers at dusk, eyes burning with living flame. Braided red fire-hair flowed down their back, each strand alive with heat and motion. The tribe moved like ritual and flame, ancient and proud. Through instinct, tone, and fragments of shared meaning, Misora found she could understand them—just a little. Enough to listen. Enough to feel. Among them stood Ayama. Ayama spoke not only in words, but in warmth, in presence. What began as curiosity turned into something deeper, dangerous, inevitable. When they finally touched—when their lips met—it felt as if the universe itself reacted. Stars dimmed. Light bent. An eclipse ignited into a silent stellar explosion, burning across Misora’s senses. In that moment, Misora Keade knew: first contact was no longer just history. It was love.