Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was nothing in the beginning. Only the endless ocean, its dark waters churning in perpetual chaos. From the depths rose monstrous whirlpools—primordial seeds of unborn worlds, swirling in the abyss with neither order nor purpose. Then... there was me.

I emerged from the void, a golden radiance piercing through the turbulent waves. The moment my light touched the chaos, it stilled. The ocean obeyed. In that place where I was born, I established the first law—gravity. The waters drew toward me, forming concentric rings of calm amidst the storm. I became the center, the anchor around which existence would take shape.

Time meant nothing in those early eons. The ocean stretched infinitely in all directions, and I burned alone. Until—

Far, so terribly far from me, the first daughter stirred.

Jupiter.

Her presence was undeniable—a massive, roaring tempest of power. A continent formed around her, vast and untamed. Storms raged across its surface, and the ocean trembled beneath her might. I watched, my light barely reaching her, my influence weak. She struggled. She endured. She survived. Against the crushing pressure of the abyss, against the wrath of the newborn world, she stood firm.

And then, not long after, another.

Saturn.

She arose farther still, her birth marked by the elegant rings that encircled her. Like Jupiter, she was forced to endure the chaos alone. But she, too, prevailed. Their existence brought stability. Their strength forged the foundation upon which others could emerge.

Uranus and Neptune came next—born almost simultaneously, distant and cold. Neptune, the farthest, received so little of my warmth. I ached for her, but the laws I had created could not be bent. The distance between us remained, and she grew in solitude, shrouded in eternal storms.

Then, at last, the inner circle was born.

Mars. Venus. Earth. Mercury.

Each unique. Each precious.

Mars, fierce and unyielding, carved her land in fire and iron. Venus, radiant yet suffocating, wrapped herself in poisonous beauty. Mercury, small and swift, darted through the currents like a silver fish.

And then... Earth.

Of all my daughters, she alone cradled life. Her oceans teemed with it—fragile, fleeting, and yet so vibrant. Her continents shifted like living things, breathing and growing. She was different. She was perfect.

Billions of years passed.

Billions of years of asteroid assaults, of celestial battles. The outer planets stood as shields—Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune—their colossal forms deflecting the worst of the onslaught. But the inner worlds were still young, still vulnerable. Jupiter did what she could, her gravitational pull a protective embrace, but even she could not stop every threat.

And now?

Now, there is peace.

My daughters thrive. They bicker, they laugh, they forge alliances and rivalries. Sometimes, they fight—and when they do, I must discipline them. A flare of my radiance, a warning pulse of heat. They heed me. They must.

But above all...

I love them.

Every single one.

Chapter Text

The forests breathed in harmony with her steps.

Earth walked barefoot across the moss-covered trails of her continent, the soil warm and alive beneath her feet. The towering trees leaned gently as she passed, their leaves whispering secrets in a language only she could understand. Above, birds wove intricate patterns through the canopy, their wings catching the golden light filtering through the branches.

She hummed—a soft, wordless melody that seemed to rise from the very core of her being. The notes floated in the air, coaxing blossoms to unfold and streams to ripple in time. It was an old tune, one she had carried since the first rains fell upon her land.

Her appearance was as vibrant as the world she nurtured.

Green hair, lush and wild like the deepest thickets, cascaded down her back. But lift a strand, turn it just so—and there, hidden beneath, shone a rich, luminous purple, as if the night sky had woven itself into her essence.

Her eyes—blue. Not just any blue. The blue of glacial pools, of rain-swollen rivers, of the endless ocean that stretched beyond the edges of her domain. A gift, though not without cost. The waters had come to her long ago, carried by icy wanderers from the void—asteroids, crashing into her surface, carving scars that later filled with life. Painful, necessary.

Yet, despite the violence of her birth, she thrived.

Energy pulsed through her with every step, a radiant vitality that seeped into the roots beneath her, into the air around her. The grass grew greener where she lingered. Flowers turned their faces toward her, as if she were a second sun.

She wore a simple sky-blue top, the fabric rippling like the heavens above. At its hem, threads of emerald curled like young vines, stitching earth and sky together. Her denim shorts, a gift from the people of her world, were frayed at the edges—well-loved, practical. She had no need for finery. She was the land itself.

Today, like most days, she wandered without true destination. But as the sun dipped lower, painting the clouds in hues of amber and rose, she turned her steps homeward.

The wooden door creaked softly as Earth pushed it open, stepping into the quiet sanctuary of her room. Sunlight streamed through the half-open window, painting lazy golden stripes across the floorboards. And there, curled up in the center of her bed like a contented cat, lay Luna.

The small, silver-haired girl slept soundly, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. One stubborn strand of hair stuck straight up from her crown, defying gravity with childish stubbornness. Clutched tightly under her arm was a well-worn plush toy—a perfect sphere with the words "Sputnik-1" stitched across its fabric surface in faded letters.

Earth blinked.

— Huh? Again? — Her face twisted into a comically exaggerated expression of disbelief, as if she genuinely hadn’t expected to find Luna here. — Well, well...

She tiptoed closer, crouching down beside the bed. With a gentle nudge to Luna’s shoulder, she whispered:

— Wake up, sleepyhead. It’s too nice outside to be napping.

— Mmm... — Luna rolled over, burying her face into Earth’s pillow. — Five more minutes, Earth...

Earth exhaled through her nose, a fond smile tugging at her lips.

— Hehe. You’re so cute when you’re like this. Come on, up you go.

Grudgingly, Luna shifted, pushing herself upright. She rubbed at her silver eyes with tiny fists, yawning wide enough to rival a black hole.

— ...Eh? Earth? How long have you been here?

— Don’t tell me you were sleep-talking just now. — Earth’s grin widened as she poked Luna’s cheek. — Anyway, I’ve got so many ideas for what we could do today! Let’s go!

— But I just woke up...

— No time for arguments! — Earth crossed her arms. — And besides, what are you even doing here? You’ve got your own bed, you know.

— Actually, I came to tell you something. — Luna swayed slightly, still half-trapped in drowsiness. — When I got here, you weren’t around. I decided to wait, but... I was sooo tired. Next thing I knew, your bed kidnapped me.

— Good grief... Wait. — Earth’s eyes sharpened. — Tell me something? What is it?

— Your mother wants to see you.

— Mom? — Earth’s hand flew to the back of her neck, scratching nervously as a laugh bubbled up. — This isn’t about Venus, is it? She started it! And Mom knows how much she picks on me!

— Is it because you’re flat? — Luna tilted her head, innocent.

— I’ll end you.

— No. — Luna shook her head, the stubborn strand of hair bouncing. — She said it’s something special.

— Something special? — Earth’s eyes sparkled. — Is it a holiday or something?

— ...Dunno. But she told me to fetch you.

— Hmm... I wonder what it could be...

— So? Are you going?

— Of course! She’s my mom, right? I’m always happy to see her! — Earth spun on her heel, dramatically pointing toward the door. — Let’s go! Prepare for launch!

She turned back—only to find Luna already sprawled across the bed, fast asleep once more.

— What?! Again?!

Chapter Text

The corridor of the Sun’s castle stretched before them, its walls lined with towering stained-glass windows that cast prismatic light across the polished floors. Earth walked steadily, one arm slightly raised as Luna drowsily leaned against it, her silver hair tickling Earth’s elbow. The little moon’s grip on her "Sputnik-1" plush had loosened, and it dangled precariously from her fingers.

— It’s been a while since I’ve been here, — Earth murmured, her gaze drifting across the vaulted ceiling. The architecture seemed to breathe, its golden veins pulsing faintly with solar energy. — I wonder how Mom’s doing...

Luna yawned, blinking blearily.

— Are we there yet?

— Good grief… — Earth stopped mid-step, turning to stare at her. — Don’t tell me you were asleep again?

— Was I? — Luna rubbed her eyes, then suddenly perked up. — Oh! Right! — In a flash, she wriggled free from Earth’s arm and dashed ahead, her tiny feet barely making a sound on the luminous tiles. — I’ll go on ahead! Catch up later!

Earth planted her hands on her hips, watching Luna disappear around a bend.

— Honestly…

Alone now, she took a moment to study the hall properly. To her left and right stood towering statues of her elder sisters—Jupiter and Saturn—flanking the path like celestial sentinels. And between them, radiant even in stone, was their mother: the Sun.

Jupiter’s statue loomed, massive and imposing. Her curves were carved with deliberate grandeur, her voluptuous form a testament to her role as the largest of them all. Her hair, frozen in swirling marble clouds, bore traces of ochre pigment, mimicking the storms that wreathed her real counterpart. One eye was hidden behind a sculpted blindfold, its edges etched with tiny, intricate runes.

Earth smiled faintly. She remembered being small enough to cling to Jupiter’s actual skirts, pretending the eyepatch concealed some legendary power. She’d tied scraps of cloth over her own eyes, shouting dramatic lines from storybooks, convinced that "unleashing" her hidden strength would make her as mighty as her big sister.

And Jupiter had humored her every time.

Even now, the memory warmed her. Jupiter had always been their shield—her gravitational pull a constant, sheltering embrace against the asteroids and chaos of the early eons.

Then there was Saturn, elegant and serene. Her statue’s gown cascaded in frozen ripples, its hem sculpted into delicate rings of ice and cosmic dust. Her face, though stone, exuded a quiet, regal kindness. Earth traced a finger along the base of the statue, recalling afternoon tea sessions in Saturn’s crystalline pavilion, her retinue of moon-servants gliding soundlessly between them with trays of nectar-steeped leaves.

Saturn never raised her voice. Not when Jupiter teased her about her "overly elaborate" rings, not even when Venus called her fat (a blatant lie—Saturn’s grace was unmatched). But Earth had felt it—the way the air thickened around Saturn in those moments, the way her smile stayed perfectly placid while the gravity in the room shifted, just slightly, into something lethal.

And then, at the corridor’s end, the Sun.

Her statue dominated the space, its gilded robes spilling across the dais like liquid light. A smooth, featureless mask hid her face, save for the faint glow of her eyes—pupilless gold, burning even in stone. Her hair streamed upward, frozen in a corona of flame, each strand a masterwork of lapis and amber inlay.

Earth’s chest tightened.

She remembered the warmth of those arms—how the Sun had scooped her up during her earliest, most panicked moments. Like the time the dinosaurs had stampeded (why had she made them so big?!), and she’d bolted, shrieking, straight into her mother’s embrace. The Sun had laughed, a sound like solar flares, and cradled her until the terror passed.

Of course, there were also the punishments—hours spent simmering in unbearable heat when she’d misbehaved. Even now, the memory made her sweat.

These three had been the first. The pillars. The ones who’d shielded her, Mars, Venus, and Mercury when the universe was still young and cruel.

— Good grief… — Earth shook her head, chuckling to herself. — I got lost in thought again.

She squared her shoulders and stepped forward, the light growing brighter as she approached the throne room.

The grand doors of the throne room swung open before her, and Earth stepped inside—only to freeze mid-stride as a chorus of voices erupted around her.

— Happy birthday!

The hall blazed with light, the solar flares dancing across the vaulted ceiling like living fireworks. And there, arrayed before her, stood all her sisters.

At the forefront loomed Jupiter and Saturn, their presence commanding the space between them. Cradled in their mother's arms, tiny and vibrant, was Mercury—a stark contrast to the towering figures surrounding her. The smallest planet's black hair stuck up in short, unruly spikes, her thin frame belying the boundless energy coiled within. Earth felt a phantom ache in her legs just looking at her; she'd raced Mercury countless times across the continents and never once caught her. The memory of those contests still stung—one moment Mercury would be there, the next she'd vanish in a blur, leaving Earth blinking at empty space where her sister had stood.

Flanking the central group stood Mars and Venus, the sisters just older than Earth herself.

Mars stood at perfect attention, her military bearing never slipping even for this celebration. The sunlight glinted off her crimson pauldrons, the white captain's hat perched atop her fiery red hair like a crown. Her tanned skin and minimal armor—just enough to cover her chest and thighs—spoke of both practicality and pride. Earth knew that calm exterior hid a furnace; Mars burned hot in battle, in argument, in everything. She'd seen her tear through asteroid swarms with a warrior's cry, watched her verbally eviscerate Venus when the blonde's insults crossed some invisible line. Yet her eyes, when they met Earth's, softened with something like protectiveness.

Venus, by contrast, had her arms crossed, looking determinedly at some point above Earth's left shoulder. Her twin blonde braids gleamed with unnatural perfection, each strand precisely arranged. The self-proclaimed fairest of them all (a title Saturn never bothered to contest but quietly disproved by merely existing) refused to join the congratulations. Earth suppressed a sigh. They'd been through this dance countless times—Venus's barbed comments about her "flatness" (absurd; she was just petite), the ensuing arguments, their mother's inevitable punishment. Yet... there were moments, rare and fleeting, when Venus's mask slipped, and Earth glimpsed something else beneath.

From the right side of the hall came muffled noises. Uranus lounged upside down against a pillar, her console held aloft as she mumbled around a mouthful of cake. Her faded blue hair stuck out in every direction, the hood of her oversized sweatshirt flopping uselessly behind her. Venus's eye twitched at the sight—Uranus's complete disregard for appearances was a constant affront—but the gamer planet remained blissfully unaware, her attention locked on her game. Earth had long given up trying to understand her; Uranus existed in her own orbit, speaking in cryptic non-sequiturs and challenging gravity itself with her preferred seating arrangements.

And there, in the far left corner, almost blending into the shadows, sat Neptune. Her long blue hair pooled around her like water, those depthless eyes watching quietly. Earth had tried countless times to bridge the distance between them, but Neptune's isolation was as vast as the oceans she ruled. Yet now, to Earth's surprise, she saw Neptune's lips move, the words too soft to hear but unmistakably part of the celebration.

At the center of it all stood the Sun, Mercury perched happily in her arms. Her golden robes shimmered with every breath, the light of her very being casting the entire scene in warm radiance. The blank white mask hid her expression, but Earth knew—she was smiling.

— Well? — The Sun's voice rang clear as a solar flare. — Aren't you going to say something?

Earth opened her mouth—

— Girls... Mom... — Her voice cracked. — Thank you. I... I completely forgot.

— Huh? — Jupiter's eyes widened comically. — Seriously? It's your milestone birthday. Good grief, little Earth. Forgetting you've turned four and a half billion years old.

— Mars and I celebrated ours a thousand years ago, — Venus said, flicking her fan open with practiced elegance. — As usual, you're lagging behind.

— What does it matter? — Mars crossed her arms, her crimson pauldrons glinting.

— It matters because she's still the second youngest. Ha! Still so small.

— Really? Could've fooled me.

— Of course you'd say that. Nothing matters to you except your stupid training sessions. — Venus's fan fluttered faster.

— At least I don't get jealous when others succeed where I fail. — Mars's eye twitched.

— WHAT DID YOU JUST—

— Girls! — The Sun's voice flared like a solar prominence before dropping to a strained whisper as she massaged her temples. — Girls... please. Not today.

— But Mother! — Mars protested.

— It's your sister's birthday. Can you not argue for one day?

— Tell that to the bronze-skinned idiot who thinks she knows me! — Venus's cheeks flushed scarlet.

— I'll be the bigger person and ignore that. — Mars turned on her heel and stalked toward the banquet table.

— Hey! We're not done here!

Earth watched the familiar squabble, a small smile tugging at her lips. Some things never changed.

Saturn glided over, her hands folded demurely at her waist. When she leaned down, her—ample proportions—made Earth's face heat up.

— Happy birthday, dear. — Saturn's voice was honey-smooth as she produced a chocolate bar from her cleavage. — A personal gift.

— I-I'm not a kid anymore! — Earth stammered, accepting it anyway.

— Don't you like it? I thought these were your favorite.

— N-no, I do! It's just... I'm... well, grown now.

— Oh darling, — Saturn chuckled, adjusting one of her icy rings, — growing up doesn't mean denying yourself joy. Venus still sleeps with those artificial satellites you gifted her, you know.

— W-what did you say, you overgrown snowflake?! — Venus's screech echoed across the hall.

Saturn turned slowly, her serene smile intact. The Sun's eyes slid shut in anticipation as the air around Saturn warped, the temperature plummeting.

— Venus, sweetheart, would you repeat that?

Earth instinctively backed up—only to yelp as Jupiter's thunderous clap between her shoulder blades sent her stumbling forward.

— Ignore them, kiddo. — Jupiter boomed with laughter. — Like you haven't seen this a million times.

— That hurt, big sis.

— Really? — Jupiter blinked, then grinned sheepishly. — Whoops. Forgot my own strength. But hey! It's your birthday—you should be tougher by now. Like Mars.

— Mars trained with you for ages, that's why she's so strong.

— So what's your excuse?

— Heh. Guess we're just built different.

Mercury zipped over in a blur, tackling Earth in a hug that nearly knocked them both over.

— Happy birthday, big sis!

— Thanks, Mercury.

— We don't hang out much 'cause I'm always with Mom, but today I wanna stay with you forever!

— I'd love that.

— Earth.

The Sun's voice drew their attention. She approached, cradling a sleeping Luna in her arms.

— When did she—? — Earth stared. Somehow, she still hadn't learned to expect Luna's inexplicable napping.

— My dear daughter. — The Sun adjusted her mask with her free hand. — You've grown so much. You've always been... special. No—all my children are special. But you... you nurtured life. The only one who could.

— There she goes again, favoring Earth. — Venus muttered from the sidelines.

— Huh? I didn't notice. — Mars deadpanned. — Jealous?

— As if! — Venus whirled away, her braids lashing like angry snakes.

— Please, accept this gift. — The Sun extended an orb that shimmered with captured starlight.

— What's this? — Earth turned it over in her hands. Inside, galaxies swirled.

— A window to worlds beyond our system. I know how you and your inhabitants dream of the distant cosmos.

Earth's breath caught. The orb showed rippling nebulas, spinning planets—other oceans under other suns.

— I don't... know what to say. Thank you, Mom.

The Sun's masked face tilted. With one finger, she nudged Earth's sleeve up, revealing a patch of scorched skin.

— This burn. Don't tell me they're...

— It's fine, Mom. Really.

— Your own children are killing you, little one.

— They're just... learning. Growing. — Earth pulled her sleeve down as the Sun pressed a hand to her forehead.

— You're burning up. This isn't sustainable.

— Next year they're launching a probe to Neptune! Isn't that amazing? They might—

— You. — The Sun's grip tightened. — What about you?

— I... I'm giving them that chance.

A sigh. The mask couldn't hide the worry in her voice.

— You've always been kind. You're old enough to choose your path. But don't let it consume you.

— I won't!

— Oh dear, you are feverish. — Saturn embraced her from behind, her glacial rings emitting a soothing chill. — Let your big sister cool you down.

Earth's face burned hotter.

— Pfft! — Jupiter elbowed Mars. — Saturn's at it again.

— Caring for the younger ones is an elder sister's duty. — Saturn's smile was beatific. — Don't you agree, Jupiter?

— Touché!

Though her mask showed nothing, they all felt the Sun's smile.

— I'm proud of you all. — She gestured to the lavishly set table. — Now come. We've waited long enough.

Chapter Text

The cool night air wrapped around them as Earth and Mars leaned against the castle walls, their backs pressed to the warm stone. Above, the endless starscape shimmered—a tapestry of distant suns and swirling nebulae that stretched beyond comprehension.

— Ugh. I ate too much. — Mars slapped her toned stomach with a grin. — So? Did you enjoy it?

— Of course! — Earth hugged her knees to her chest. — It was perfect. We hardly ever get to see everyone like this. With you and Venus, it's different—you're close. But past the asteroid belt? Jupiter, Saturn... they feel so far away. And so dangerously exposed out there.

— Pfft! If you wanna visit, I can take you through the belt sometime. Show you Jupiter's place.

Earth shuddered.

— No thanks. Even if we survived the crossing, Jupiter's continent is... brutal. I couldn't handle it.

— Really? I’ve done it. Tough at first, but after a few thousand tries, you get used to it.

— That’s why I’m saying no. — Earth wrinkled her nose.

A comfortable silence settled between them. Earth exhaled, tilting her head back to trace the constellations.

— But... I’m happy like this. I’ve got you and Venus nearby. It’s never boring.

— Ha! Glad I’m good for something.

Earth’s gaze snagged on a silhouette at the edge of the courtyard—a small figure standing alone, staring at the same stars.

— Huh? Who’s that?

— How should I know?

Earth pushed herself up, dusting off her shorts. Mars stayed put, watching as she approached.

The girl turned.

Pale. Too pale, like moonlight given form. Tattered ice-blue fabric clung to her slight frame, and her hair—white streaked with glacial indigo—shifted in the night breeze. But it was her eyes that stopped Earth cold: deep, dark blue, like the abyssal trenches of Neptune’s realm.

— You.

Earth froze.

— ...Me?

The girl said nothing. Seconds stretched. Earth crouched to her level.

— What’s your name? How’d you get here?

— Pluto. — Her voice was barely a whisper. — I came... to congratulate you.

— Me? Really? That’s—that’s so sweet! — Earth beamed, offering her hand. — You’re a planet too, right? Let’s be friends!

Mars’s laugh carried from the wall.

— Waste of time. That’s Pluto. No matter what Mom says, she’s not really part of the family.

Earth flinched.

— Oh. I... I didn’t know. I’m sorry.

Pluto shook her head.

— It’s fine. I’ve made peace with it. And yet... — She trailed off. — Never mind. I just wanted to say... happy birthday.

She turned to leave.

— Wait! — Earth grabbed her sleeve. — We can still be friends. Even if—

— Does it matter? — Pluto didn’t pull away, but her voice cracked like thin ice. — I’m farther than Neptune. It took me ages to get here. Now I go back. Alone.

— Then at least see Mom!

— No. — Pluto’s hands clenched. — I won’t watch her eyes hurt again.

And just like that, she melted into the shadows.

Earth stood there, staring at the empty space where Pluto had been, until—

— Snrrk.

She looked down. Luna had materialized in her lap, dead asleep, her "Sputnik-1" plush squished against Earth’s thigh.

— When did you—?! — Earth groaned, though she couldn’t hide her smile.

Mars barked a laugh.

— Your moon’s weird. Mine just turn into swords and shut up.

— Heh. You have no idea. But... Pluto... — Earth’s fingers curled in Luna’s hair. — It’s so unfair.

— Try being Mom. Having to reject your own kid because of rules you made.

— ...Cruel.

— Eh, quit moping. She said she’s fine. — Mars stood, stretching. — C’mon. We’re sleeping in Mom’s room tonight.

— Like when we were kids?

— Damn right.

Earth grinned, scooping up Luna as she followed.

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Chapter Text

The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of ozone from the Sun’s lingering solar flares. Earth sat on the outer steps of the Sun’s castle, her legs folded beneath her, the star-viewing orb cradled in her palms. Its surface shimmered like liquid mercury, reflecting not the sky above, but distant worlds—ones that existed beyond the endless ocean of their reality.

Her fingers traced the orb’s smooth surface, and the image shifted. A new world flickered into view: absolute darkness, broken only by towering beacons of pale light. And there—a lone figure. A demoness with long violet hair, her bangs covering one eye, wandering through the abyss as if it were nothing more than an evening stroll. Earth’s breath hitched. There was something mesmerizing about her, something that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

— What are you doing?

Earth flinched, nearly dropping the orb. She turned to see Mars standing over her, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on her lips.

— Eh? Mars? You’re already awake?

— Same as you.

— Heh. Right. I was just… looking at Mom’s gift. These worlds… they’re fascinating.

— That’s true. But ours isn’t so bad either! There’s still so much we haven’t explored. Especially your oceans.

— You think so?

— I don’t think. I know. Mom once said she knows less about your continent than she does about the rest of the Solar System. Can you believe that?

— Huh. Now that you mention it… I don’t know much about my own oceans either.

— You’re kidding. — Mars’s eye twitched. — Anyway, let’s say goodbye to Mom and head home together.

— What about the others?

— Well, Jupiter and the older sisters already left at dawn. It takes them forever to get back anyway.

— And Venus?

— Venus ran off with them. — Mars made a face. — Said she didn’t want to travel back with us.

— Hehe, typical Venus.

— Tell me about it.

— Alright, let me just take one more look and— — Earth’s voice cut off as she felt a weight on her thigh. She glanced down. There, curled up like a contented cat, was Luna, fast asleep.

— Eh? When did she get here?! — Earth blinked in disbelief.

— Wow… even I would’ve gotten used to Luna’s appearances by now. — Mars sighed. — Alright, let’s go.

Earth nodded, carefully shifting Luna into her arms, and together, they walked toward the Sun’s throne room.

The grand hall of the Sun’s castle stretched endlessly upward, its vaulted ceiling shimmering with trapped solar flares that danced like caged fireflies. Earth bowed deeply, her ivy-green hair spilling over her shoulders as she clutched the star-viewing orb to her chest.

— Thank you for such a wonderful birthday, Mom. — Her voice was soft but carried the weight of genuine gratitude. — I’ll never forget it.

The Sun adjusted her featureless mask, the golden threads of her robe glinting as she shifted Mercury in her arms. The smallest planet clung to her sleeve, wide-eyed and uncharacteristically quiet.

— Nonsense, my dear. — The Sun’s voice was warmth incarnate, though something brittle lingered beneath it. — How could I not celebrate your day?

— Hehe. Still.

A silence settled between them, thick as the plasma that wreathed the Sun’s throne. Earth hesitated, her fingers tracing the orb’s surface—until the image of the violet-haired demoness flickered and vanished.

— Mom… I saw Pluto yesterday.

The solar flares above stuttered. Mercury stiffened.

— You… saw her?

— Yes. I just wanted to ask… why isn’t she our sister anymore?

The Sun’s mask tilted downward. For a moment, the only sound was the distant crackle of dying prominences.

— Pluto is my daughter, just as you all are. But she… — A gloved hand rose, then fell. — She was too small to hold her place among the planets. Not weak—never weak—but the tides were cruel. I didn’t cast her out. She chose to leave.

— Then why did she say she didn’t want to see you cry again?

The mask’s glow dimmed. Mercury buried her face in the Sun’s robes.

— Because I failed her. — The admission came like a solar flare guttering into darkness. — When you were all forming, Jupiter and Saturn struggled. They were so far from me, and I could barely reach them. But they endured. Then you came, my inner children, and I—I could finally give you the light you needed. But Neptune… and Pluto… — Her voice fractured. — Distance is a law even I cannot break.

Earth’s throat tightened. The orb in her hands felt suddenly heavier.

— I understand. I’m sorry for asking.

— Now you know. But… Earth? — The Sun reached out, brushing a strand of green hair behind Earth’s ear. Her glove was searing, yet the touch was featherlight. — Try to be kind to her. Status means nothing. She is your sister, even if the currents keep you apart.

— I’ll try!

Mars cleared her throat, her boots scuffing the glassy floor.

— We should get going. — She bowed stiffly. — Thanks again for having us, Mom. See you next time.

Earth nodded silently, adjusting Luna’s sleeping form in her arms. As they turned to leave, the Sun’s voice followed them, softer than solar wind:

— Good luck, my children.

Mercury waved frantically, her tiny fingers splayed like a star’s rays.

The endless ocean stretched beneath them, its surface a shifting mirror of the false stars above. Earth and Mars glided through the void-currents, the solar winds tugging at their hair like playful fingers. Earth leaned over the edge of Mars’s floating pauldron, her reflection rippling in the dark water below.

— Mars, have you ever wondered what’s down there?

— Nope. — Mars didn’t even glance down. — Mom said there’s no bottom. At all. You’re welcome to try diving, but rumor has it you’d just get swept away—far beyond the Solar System.

— Yikes. Never mind, then…

— Hah! Smart call. — Mars smirked, adjusting her captain’s hat. — By the way, we’re passing Venus’s orbit right now.

— Oh! Right! Venus! — Earth cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted into the abyss. — Helloooo!

— She can’t hear you.

— Should we visit her?

— Her atmosphere is bad for your skin. Even your precious humans refuse to send more than a few suicidal robots, and those usually get crushed or dissolved.

— …Right.

— Leave her be. She likes playing the diva. Let her.

Earth fell silent, her gaze drifting back to the water. Then—thud. Something heavy collided with her back, nearly knocking the breath from her lungs. She stumbled forward, arms flailing, before catching herself.

— Eh?! Did she fall asleep on me again? — Earth craned her neck, staring at the dozing Luna draped over her shoulders like a silver-haired scarf. Her surprise was genuine, as if she’d expected—hoped?—for something else.

Mars snorted.

— You’d think after five billion years, you’d stop being shocked.

Earth pouted but adjusted Luna’s weight with practiced ease. The tiny moon murmured something unintelligible, nuzzling closer.

Chapter Text

Earth sat cross-legged on the edge of her continent, her bare feet dangling over the endless ocean. Below, the first human ship—a fragile, glittering speck—pierced the sky, its trajectory aimed at Mars’s distant crimson shores. A flicker of pride warmed her chest, but it was cut short by a sudden, searing pain.

— Agh! — She clutched her collarbone, where a fresh burn marred her skin, its edges still glowing faintly with residual heat. The wound pulsed in time with the distant roar of factories and the choked whispers of dying forests.

— Are you okay, Earth? — Luna’s voice was muffled by a yawn as she blinked awake, her silver hair tousled from yet another impromptu nap on Earth’s lap.

— Yeah… don’t worry. Just a burn. The humans say they’re working on stabilizing the climate, but… — She traced the scorched skin with a sigh. — Progress is slow.

— Ah. Understood.

— What about you, Luna? Feeling alright?

— Perfectly fine. I’m well-rested.

— Unbelievable. — Earth made a face but immediately softened, pulling Luna into a sudden, crushing hug. — It’s just… amazing, you know? First, an asteroid smashes into me, and then—poof!—you’re born. How could I ever resent something so adorable? Love! Love! Love!

— Ah, so that’s why you’re flat now? — Luna deadpanned. — Venus told me that’s how it happened.

— I’ll kill her.

Earth released Luna with a playful shove, exhaling through her nose. The tiny moon tumbled backward but floated effortlessly, her expression unreadable as always.

— Still… — Earth’s gaze drifted to the horizon, where the human ship vanished into the haze. — I can’t help but wonder what’s out there, beyond our System. Pluto’s probably lonely.

— So let’s visit her.

— Don’t be ridiculous. The journey’s too dangerous. Worst-case scenario, if we cross the asteroid belt, Jupiter’s gravity will just yoink us into her storm.

— Oh. That’s sad.

— Don’t worry. We’ll see her again. I know it.

She pulled the star-viewing orb from her pocket, its surface shimmering like liquid night. Luna drifted closer, her curiosity piqued. Together, they spent the hours until dawn lost in other worlds—some bright, some broken, all impossibly far away.

Chapter Text

The rain fell in silver sheets, a rhythmic patter against the leaves and soil. Earth tilted her head back, letting the cool droplets splash against her face, her tongue darting out to catch them. Beside her, Luna stood knee-deep in a newly formed puddle, mimicking the gesture with half-lidded eyes.

— Oh, I love the rain! — Earth sighed, spinning in a slow circle, her arms outstretched. — There’s nothing better than a cold shower on a hot day. Right?

Sploosh.

Earth turned. Luna lay face-down in the puddle, bubbles rising lazily to the surface as soft snores echoed from beneath the water.

— Eh? Asleep again? — Earth huffed, though her exasperation was fond. She shook her head, smiling, and glanced toward the distant horizon where her mother’s castle stood—a golden spire against the endless ocean.

Then—

A flicker.

The castle’s light wavered, dimmed, then flared once more—a final, desperate pulse—before guttering out entirely.

Earth’s breath caught.

Luna stirred, lifting her head from the puddle with a wet plop. Water sluiced down her face as she blinked, drowsy but alert.

— Earth? What’s wro—

Her voice died as she followed Earth’s gaze. The castle was dark.

— How… — Earth whispered. — How is this possible?

— The Sun…

— Mom…

— …is gone.

The words hung between them, heavier than gravity.

A creeping cold seeped into Earth’s bones—a chill she could endure, but one that would devastate the others. She whirled around, scanning her continent. For now, the land remained stable, but already, the first signs of collapse had begun. A distant landmass shuddered, its trajectory shifting as the currents of the endless ocean faltered.

— No, no, no!

Earth dropped to her knees, her fingers digging into the soil.

— Please, please, please!

She poured her energy into the ground, but it was like trying to fill an abyss with a thimble of water. Without the Sun’s warmth, the earth itself was freezing. Frost spiderwebbed across the grass, creeping toward her fingertips.

With a snarl, she thrust out her hand. The spear Gaia materialized in her grip—its form shifting from stone to living wood in an instant. She drove it into the heart of the continent.

The freezing slowed.

Then, haltingly, stopped.

Luna’s small hand settled atop hers, her touch like a whisper of moonlight. The spear glowed faintly, and for a heartbeat—just a heartbeat—the frost receded.

Earth exhaled shakily.

— We… can’t keep this up forever. Without Mom’s energy, the continent will…

— Earth…

— I’m fine. — She straightened, though her voice wavered. — We need to warn the humans. Tell them to take shelter underground. But if we don’t restore Mom’s energy…

The unspoken words hung between them.

— Everything dies.

Meanwhile on Mars’s continent

Mars's continent, once a landscape of rust-red deserts and rolling storm plains, now lay trapped under a creeping sheet of ice. The air itself seemed to stiffen, each breath like swallowing glass. Mars stomped through the frozen wasteland, her boots cracking the ice with every step—not to clear it, but to punish it.

— What kind of weakness is this? — She drove her heel into the ground, sending fractures spiderwebbing outward. — Can’t even last a day without Mom’s energy? Pathetic! I’ll show you how to endure!

Behind her, her moons trembled.

— It’s the end! The end! — Phobos whispered, her skeletal fingers clawing at her own shoulders. Her crimson hair stood on end, as if electrified by terror. — We’ll all die! All of us!

Deimos said nothing. She sat curled in the shadow of a frozen boulder, her white hair veiling her face, the bell on her wrist silent.

Mars whirled on them, her teeth bared.

— Hey, freaks! What the hell’s wrong with you? Scared just because—

The words "Mom’s dead" lodged in her throat. She swallowed them, bitter as asteroid dust, and forced her voice louder.

— I’m talking to you! You’re my moons! Stop shaking!

Phobos flinched. Deimos lifted her head slightly, her glowing red eyes just visible through the curtain of hair.

— But… what do we do, Commander Mars? — Phobos’s voice was a frayed thread.

— Survive! Like we always have! Asteroids hit us every damn week—without Mom’s gravity, there’ll just be more. — Mars grabbed Phobos by the collar of her tattered cloak, yanking her close. — Listen up, you cowards. They’re coming. Soon. So we fight. And I’ll protect you—even if I have to die doing it. Understood?

— Y-yes, Commander! — Phobos straightened, her salute sharp despite the tremors in her limbs.

Deimos nodded once.

— Tch. We’re drifting right into the asteroid belt. Couldn’t get worse. — Mars released Phobos and cracked her knuckles. — Ready up!

The two moons dissolved—Phobos into a swirl of crimson smoke, Deimos into inky shadow—before reforming in Mars’s grip. In her left hand, a jagged, serrated blade that whimpered with every swing. In her right, a sleek, icy longsword that whispered secrets as it cut the air.

Mars grinned.

— Let’s give ’em hell.

The ocean’s surface ruptured. Stone claws, then arms, then bodies heaved themselves onto the ice—asteroids given flesh, their forms jagged and hunched, eyes like smoldering craters. They screeched, a sound like grinding tectonic plates, and charged.

Chapter Text

The bunker was a tomb of flickering lights and panicked whispers. Earth sat motionless in the corner, her knees drawn to her chest, watching as her children—her humans—spun themselves into frenzy. Arguments erupted like brushfire, accusations flying like shrapnel.

"We're all going to die!"

"Why isn't she fixing this?!"

"She doesn't care!"

Luna, ever the anomaly, yawned and raised a slender hand.

— Excuse me.

Her voice was a feather on stone, yet the crowd stilled.

Earth stepped forward, her bare feet leaving faint imprints in the dust.

— I understand your fear. The Sun... is gone. And I... — Her throat tightened. — I don’t know how to sustain this continent without her energy.

A murmur rippled through the bunker.

— But I—

A man shoved his way to the front, his face twisted in disgust.

— But you don’t know what to do! Unbelievable—our guardian is clueless!

— She’ll survive this cold. We won’t.

— She’ll abandon us.

— Shut up... — Earth’s whisper was a blade sheathed in silk.

— Leave us like trash!

— Shut up...

— Some protector you are.

— SHUT UP!

Her voice cracked like a fault line. Tears, hot and furious, streaked down her face. The bunker fell silent.

— How dare you... You are my children. And yet—! — She bared her collarbone, the burn there pulsing angrily. — I watched you evolve. Watched you dream of crossing the endless ocean. Watched you crawl from single-celled nothing into this. And still—! — Her fingers dug into the scar. — Still, you wound me. Every day. You take and take and take, and I endure. Because I cannot hate you. Even now.

She smiled, soft and broken.

— You are unique. None of my sisters could birth life. My conditions were perfect. And yet—! — Her voice dropped to a whisper. — You don’t cherish it. My labor. My patience. As if I’m just a stepping stone. Something to drain and discard.

A beat.

— How cruel.

She turned toward the exit, her silhouette framed by the bunker’s dim light.

— I will protect you. Even though you’ve given me nothing but pain, I will find a way to restore the energy Mom gave you.

— Why? — someone spat.

Earth didn’t look back.

— Because you’re mine.

The door hissed shut behind her.

Inside, the silence was thicker than ice.

On the surface

The surface was a wasteland of ice, stretching endlessly under a starless sky. Earth stood motionless, her breath fogging in the air, staring at the frozen ruins of her once-vibrant world. The wind howled—a sound like a dying animal.

Luna trotted up beside her, unfazed by the desolation.

— That was cool, Earth.

— It wasn’t cool... — Earth’s voice was hollow. — I feel... betrayed.

— Betrayed? But I’m still here.

— Heh. Right.

Her gaze drifted across the frozen expanse—then froze.

— Look. Isn’t that... Venus’s continent?

Luna squinted. In the distance, a landmass of jagged obsidian and bubbling acid seas loomed, its trajectory unmistakable.

— Seems like we’re gonna crash.

— Let’s get a little closer.

They sprinted across the ice, their footsteps echoing like gunshots. The continents hurtled toward each other, the air shuddering with impending impact.

— Oh no! We’re gonna collide! Jump!

Both launched upward just as the continents smashed together in a cataclysm of splintering ice and vaporized acid. From the chaos, a golden blur tumbled out—Venus—her perfect landing ruined as she face-planted onto the ice.

— Ow! Ow! OW! — She clutched her nose, her voice muffled. — My face!

— Venus! — Earth’s voice was far too cheerful for the apocalypse.

Venus looked up, her acid-yellow braids in disarray. Earth and Luna hovered above her, unscathed.

— Ugh, just my luck to crash into you two. What are you even doing here?

Luna tilted her head.

— Earth, why didn’t Venus jump too? — She blinked innocently. — Is she... stupid?

— You little—!

Earth grinned and descended, offering a hand. Venus eyed it like a personal insult.

— Tch. Since when do I take your help? — She snatched Earth’s hand anyway, hauling herself up with a huff. — Mom... she’s really...

— Yeah. We know.

— Without her gravity, we’re just drifting. We might even get tossed past the Solar System. What happened? She was fine just days ago!

— I don’t know... — Earth glanced toward the Sun’s distant, darkened castle. — I say we head there. Maybe we’ll find answers.

— Nuh-uh! We’re not following your plan. — Venus crossed her arms. — We’re going to the center of the Solar System to figure this out!

— That’s the same thing. — Earth deadpanned.

Venus opened her mouth—then shut it, scowling.

Earth exhaled, her attention fixed on the castle.

— I don’t like leaving my continent like this, but... we have to be quick.

— Finally something we agree on. — Venus flicked her braids over her shoulder. — Let’s fly. We need to reach Mom.

Chapter Text

The castle was a hollow shell.

Earth’s footsteps echoed through the grand halls, each sound swallowed by the oppressive silence. The air was stale—no warmth, no hum of solar energy, just the ghost of what once was.

— It’s so quiet... — Earth whispered, her voice barely disturbing the stillness. — There’s nothing. Just... emptiness.

— Like I can’t see it, — Venus muttered, her usual venom dulled.

Then—

A whimper.

Small, fragile, childish.

Earth’s breath hitched.

— Did you hear that?

— Yeah. — Venus’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. — Mom’s chamber.

They moved as one, their steps quickening until they reached the throne room.

The doors, once radiant with golden filigree, stood ajar. Inside, the Sun sat upon her throne—her true form revealed for the first time.

Her mask was gone.

Her face—pale as moonlight, serene in death—was bare. Eyes closed, lips slightly parted, as if she’d exhaled and simply... stopped.

And curled in her lap, trembling like a wounded sparrow, was Mercury.

— Mercury... — Earth’s voice cracked.

The smallest planet didn’t look up. Her tiny frame shuddered with each sob, her fingers clutching the Sun’s robes like a lifeline.

— Mom... Mom...

— Mercury, it’s okay. — Earth knelt beside her, her own tears spilling over. — We’re here.

— Earth? — Mercury lifted her head, her eyes red and swollen. — Mom, she’s—

— We know.

Venus turned away, her shoulders shaking.

Earth pulled Mercury into her arms, holding her tight as the little one wailed into her shoulder—a sound so raw it seemed to fracture the very air.

— It’s going to be okay, Mercury. — Earth pressed her lips to the girl’s hair. — I promise.

— Sister...

Mercury’s cry tore through the room, a shared agony reverberating in the hearts of every planet present.

— I promise. We’ll get through this.

Later

— It’s okay. Everything’s okay now, — Earth whispered, though the words tasted like ash.

— Earth, — Luna said, her voice unusually solemn, — the Sun never showed her face. Not even to Jupiter or Saturn.

— I know. — Earth’s gaze lingered on the Sun’s serene features. — She’s… so beautiful.

— What do we do now? — Luna asked, tilting her head.

— I don’t know. — Earth turned back to Mercury, gently cupping the girl’s tear-streaked face. — Mercury, please. Tell us what happened to Mom. You were with her, right?

Mercury nodded, her lips trembling. She swallowed hard, then began to speak.

— That night…

Flashback

The celebration had ended. The planets had dispersed, leaving the Sun’s castle quiet, the air thick with exhaustion. The Sun slumped onto her throne, her golden robes pooling around her like molten metal.

— Mom? Are you okay? — Mercury hovered close, her tiny hands clutching the armrest.

— Yes, I’m just… tired. No. That’s not it. — The Sun’s voice was fraying at the edges. — I’ve been feeling… unwell. Very unwell. Mercury, my dear. I have a request.

Mercury’s eyes widened.

— What is it?

Slowly, the Sun reached up—and removed her mask.

Mercury gasped.

Her mother’s face was stunning. Ethereal, radiant, yet lined with exhaustion.

— Please… grow up strong. Become a great and beautiful planet, like your sisters. Don’t let anyone belittle you. And… when I’m gone… don’t grieve for me. You have seven… no, eight sisters. They’ll protect you.

— Mom, what are you talking about?! Gone?! Where?!

— I… couldn’t say it. Not before Earth’s birthday. Not during. But I… I’m dying, Mercury. These are my final moments. And I’m so glad… I’m spending them with you. My youngest. My sweetest.

— Dying?! But why?! Mom, don’t say things like that!

— You’re still young. Naive. No matter how long beings like us live… we all die eventually. And I, as the foundation of everything… am no exception. I just didn’t think… it would be so soon.

— No…

The Sun rested a hand atop Mercury’s head.

— My dear. When you see your sisters… tell them to find the ninth.

— The ninth?

— Yes. Your ninth sister. My ninth daughter. Befriend her. She’s kind… and so lonely. Forgive me, Mercury. For everything.

Her lips moved silently.

"I love you."

Then—

The light in her eyes faded.

Her hand slipped from Mercury’s head.

— Mom! Mommy! Please, wake up!

End of the flashback

— After that… I… stayed with her. Hoping she’d wake up. But she never did…

— Mom… — Venus’s whisper was raw, her fists clenched at her sides.

— She was everything to us, — Earth said softly. — Let’s honor her last wish.

— Are you serious?! — Venus whirled on her. — You want us to go searching for who-knows-what, who-knows-where?! By the time we find them, our continents will have drifted past the Solar System! And then what?!

— We’ll figure that out later. Or do you have a better idea?

Venus opened her mouth—then snapped it shut, teeth grinding.

— Besides, we do know who to look for and where. The ninth planet is Pluto. She’s beyond Neptune’s orbit. Or… she was, before Mom died…

— I’m with you, sister, — Mercury said, wiping her tears. — Mom asked us to do this. And I want… I want her to be happy. Wherever she is now.

— Ugh. Fine. — Venus crossed her arms. — I’ll go. But on one condition. You’re not the leader.

— Fine. Then let Mercury lead.

— Are you joking?! She’s a child! Decided—I’m in charge.

— Can I be leader? — Luna raised her hand.

— No!

— Okay.

Earth stood, facing Venus squarely.

— Then here’s the plan. We return to our continents, then set course for Mars and the others.

— And how do you propose we do that?

— Simple. I can manipulate the terrasphere. — Earth flexed her fingers. — Never done it on this scale before… just small islands and subcontinents. But I think I can manage. Though… that does mean I’ll be the captain of our ship.

— Do what you want. But I’m still in charge!

— Deal. — Earth turned to Mercury. — First, we’ll head to your continent and merge it with mine and Venus’s.

— Okay.

— Then let’s go.

Chapter Text

Earth’s hands glowed one final time as the last tendrils of roots wove themselves between the edges of Mercury’s and Venus’s continents. She straightened, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.

— Done!

The continents were now tethered together by an intricate network of colossal tree roots, their bark shimmering faintly with residual energy.

— It’s amazing these roots can even survive this cold, — Venus remarked, tapping one with her fan. A tiny wisp of acid smoke curled up where she touched it, but the wood held firm.

— Heh, I have Mom to thank for making me this way. — Earth grinned, though exhaustion lined her voice. — Never tried growing them in this kind of freeze, though. Not sure how long they’ll last. Venus, you’re the fiery one, right? Think you can keep them warm?

— Venus is too toxic, — Luna said flatly.

— Nobody asked you! — Venus snapped, her cheeks flushing green. She huffed, crossing her arms. — Fine. I can regulate the heat of my fan. But you should be begging on your knees for my help. Ohohoho!

— Alright then. Mercury, you’re also hot—

— Replacement found! — Venus wailed, collapsing dramatically onto the icy ground. — Ugh, fine. But only because you need me.

— You didn’t have to be so smug about it, — Earth muttered.

— Earth, — Mercury piped up, her tiny hands clutching her oversized hammer.

— Hm?

— If you can thread a root through all the continents, I can conduct heat through them simultaneously.

— Wha—

Venera lay motionless on the ground, her soul seemingly crushed.

— Earth, I think Venus died, — Luna observed.

Earth blinked at Mercury.

— I’d love to try that, but this is already draining me…

— You could’ve just asked me, — Luna said.

— How did I not think of that?! — Earth flopped onto the ice next to Venus, equally spiritually defeated.

— Mercury, I think Earth died too, — Luna said.

Mercury tilted her head.

— What did you mean when you said Earth could’ve asked you?

— Oh, right. — Earth sat up abruptly. — Luna amplifies my abilities. Her skills complement mine.

— That’s weird. Other moons act differently. They’re either weapons, like Mars’s or Neptune’s, or servants, like Jupiter’s or Saturn’s.

— She loves me, — Luna stated.

— Don’t say it like that! People will get the wrong idea! — Earth’s face twisted in horror.

— But it’s true.

— In a different way! — Earth groaned. — Luna’s like a sister to me. Always there. Always sleeping. — She made a face, then paused. — Speaking of which… you haven’t slept since Mom died. Why?

Luna shrugged.

— That’s your answer?! — Earth exhaled sharply. — Unbelievable… Anyway, Luna and I can pilot our ‘ship.’ We’ll reach Mars and connect her continent next. Until then, Mercury, can you melt some of this ice?

Before Mercury could respond, Venus suddenly sat up and spat. A glob of acid hit the ground, melting a perfect hole through the frost.

— There. Happy?

— Disgusting, — Earth grimaced.

— Told you she was toxic, — Luna said.

— Shut uuuup!

Earth chuckled, then raised her hand. The spear Gaia materialized in her grip, its wooden form pulsing with energy. She drove it into the ground, and Luna promptly latched onto it beside her.

— All aboard! — Earth cheered.

And with a lurch, the continent began to move.

Chapter Text

The continent-ship drifted toward the asteroid belt, its roots creaking ominously as the first debris fields came into view. The void-ocean ahead churned with jagged rocks, some as large as cities, others spinning like deadly tops.

— We passed Mars’s orbit, — Venus announced, fanning herself lazily. — But no sign of her. Must’ve gotten dragged somewhere.

Earth squinted, then pointed toward a disturbingly empty patch of the belt.

— Look. Over there. Fewer asteroids.

— Obvious sister-trail! — Mercury chirped, hefting her comically oversized hammer.

Earth swallowed hard.

— We’ll have to cross the belt, then.

— You say that like you weren’t expecting it, — Venus scoffed.

— I was. It’s just… dangerous.

— If Mars could plow through alone, the four of us will be fine.

— Right. Course change.

Earth gripped Gaia like a ship’s wheel, twisting it sharply. The continent groaned, its roots lashing like tentacles as it veered toward the gap.

— Do you think she’s okay…? — Mercury whispered.

— It’s Mars. She survives like nobody else, — Venus muttered. Then, quieter: — But… there were a lot of them.

— Venus is worried about Mars, — Luna observed.

— Oh, shut UP! — Venus’s cheeks flushed acid-green.

They sailed deeper, the first asteroids now thunking onto the continent’s surface like hailstones.

— They’re boarding, — Earth said grimly.

Venus and Mercury stepped forward. A fan of corrosive mist materialized in Venus’s hand, while Mercury’s hammer slammed into the ground, cracking the ice beneath her.

— Ready?

Venus flicked her fan open with a practiced snap, acid-green eyes scanning the encroaching rocks.

— You stay here and keep us on course, — she said, glancing back at Earth. — Leave this to me and Mercury. Someone needs to cover you.

Earth met her gaze, smiled softly, and nodded.

— Let's give them hell! — Mercury chirped, hefting her absurdly oversized hammer.

— I'll go too, — Luna said.

— Hah! Want to protect your precious planet? — Venus sneered. — How adorable.

— Yes?

— That's not it?! — Venus shrieked.

— No. Earth just told me to.

Luna rose, drawing a sleek, silver sword from—somewhere. It shimmered faintly, like moonlight on water.

— Cute. You even have a weapon like Jupiter’s and Saturn’s little pets.

— It’s cool, right?

— Whatever. Let’s move.

Venus snapped her fan forward.

— Acid Gust!

A spray of corrosive droplets shot forth like arrows, melting through stone and ice alike. The asteroids hissed and bubbled, their surfaces dissolving into sludge.

— Tch. There’s just more of them.

— Leave it to me! — Mercury yelled, already sprinting ahead. — Charge!

With a swing that defied physics, she sent her hammer crashing into the nearest asteroid, sending it careening into the swarm like a bowling ball. Rocks shattered on impact, scattering debris in all directions.

Venus wasn’t idle. She raised her fan, summoning a swirling cloud of acid-laced dust from the remains of the shattered asteroids.

— And again!

She brought the fan down sharply, intensifying the pressure. The cloud condensed, melting everything it touched into a bubbling slurry.

Mercury zipped between the rocks, her hammer a blur, each strike sending another asteroid flying.

— My turn, — Luna said.

She raised her sword—and slashed at empty air. A ripple of energy surged outward, taking the form of a shimmering tidal wave.

— So that’s her power, — Venus thought. — Water—the force that nourishes Earth. It’s what makes her land fertile. But this strength… Can a moon really do this? And that speed!

The wave raced forward, gaining momentum—

— Just a little more… Now!

It crashed into an asteroid—

— …It didn’t do anything?! — Venus screamed.

— I was useless after all, — Luna said flatly.

— Don’t say that so calmly!

Venus groaned as Luna trudged back toward Earth, tripped over nothing, and face-planted into the ground.

— Eh? Did you fall asleep again?! — Earth gasped, as if expecting anything else.

— I just tripped.

— Unbelievable, — Venus muttered. — Logically, water can’t break stone or ice… And yet… — Her grip tightened on her fan. — …Earth, you idiot. I envy you.

Earth, still steadying Gaia, caught Venus staring.

— Something wrong, Venus?

— Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just amazed at how useless you two are in a fight. Mercury and I have to do everything. It’s almost humiliating.

— You think so? But I’m… glad I can rely on you, Venus.

Venus’s cheeks flushed green.

— Moron. It’s just necessary. You’re the only one who can pilot this ship. Don’t get sentimental.

— Hehe. Right.

Mercury, meanwhile, had launched herself skyward, hammer raised high.

— Forward!

She came down like a meteor, slamming into the icy surface. The impact sent a shockwave of heat rippling outward—ice vaporized, asteroids disintegrated, and the very ground trembled.

Earthquakes split the land. Volcanoes belched ash. Forests ignited.

Earth fell to her knees, staring in horror at the devastation unfolding across her continent.

— My children…

Then, as suddenly as it began, the chaos stilled. The earth refroze. The storms calmed.

— Where the hell did that power come from?! — Venus hissed.

— Ehehe, oops? — Mercury grinned, entirely unrepentant.

Venus pinched the bridge of her nose, then glanced back.

— The belt’s behind us. We’re still on course.

— Let’s keep moving, — Earth said softly.

And so they sailed on.

Chapter Text

The combined continent-ship sailed for another week, cutting through the void-ocean’s currents until a landmass loomed in the distance—vast, jagged, and easily dwarfing their own.

— Ah, it’s Big Sis’s! — Mercury cheered, bouncing on her toes.

— And that tiny continent smashed into it has to be Mars’s, — Venus added, squinting.

— She’s alive… — Earth whispered, relief softening her voice.

— We don’t know that, — Venus muttered. — Her land could’ve docked without her.

— Don’t say things like that, — Earth chided.

— Doesn’t matter. We’re going.

As they drew closer, figures emerged on the shore—Mars, her twin moons clutched close, and Jupiter, towering over them like a living storm.

— You survived, — Mars called out as they approached, her voice rough but relieved.

— Obviously, thanks to me, — Venus sniffed, flipping her hair.

Jupiter lunged forward, wrapping Venus in a bone-crushing hug.

— Good job, Venus! Mom would’ve been proud!

— G-Get off, you oaf…! I can’t breathe…!

Jupiter laughed, releasing her with a playful shake.

— So, how’d it go? You’ve got yourselves a ship now, huh? Pretty slick!

— Yep, all thanks to Earth! — Mercury chirped. — Without her, we’d just be drifting.

— Oh? Little Earth? — Jupiter grinned, ruffling Earth’s hair. — Not surprised, but still—nice work!

— Does that mean we can merge our continents now? — Mars cut in.

— Yeah, I think so, — Earth said. — It’ll take time, but with Luna’s help, I can speed it up. Though…

— What?

— Jupiter’s continent is… too big. It’ll take way longer than the others…

— No worries! — Jupiter clapped Earth on the back, nearly flattening her. — We’ve got time.

— Mars, — Venus turned sharply. — How’d your trip go?

— Wow, actually worried about me? — Mars smirked.

— As if! Just curious. That’s all.

— Well…

Flashback

Mars stood encircled by hundreds of asteroids, her breath ragged, her twin blades—Phobos and Deimos—gripped so tightly her knuckles burned. Sweat mixed with dust streaked her face, and her muscles screamed in protest.

— Damn it! We’ve been fighting for days, and there’s no end to them! At this rate, I’ll—

— Lady Mars, — Phobos’s voice trembled from within her sword form. — Please… leave us. Run.

— Shut up, idiot! — Mars snarled, swinging Deimos in a wide arc that shattered an incoming boulder. — I promised I’d protect you, even if it kills me! And since when do you have the guts to stop shaking?!

Another asteroid lunged. She sidestepped, pivoted, and crushed it to dust with a single strike.

— My movements… are slowing. But I can’t give up… No. She never would’ve. Mom went through worse. So I—! — She bared her teeth at the swarm. — Hear me, you stupid rocks?! I’ll wipe every last one of you out!

Crossing her swords, she spun—a sandstorm erupted, hurling dozens of asteroids into the abyss.

Her chest heaved.

— Lady Mars! — Phobos cried.

— I said shut it! — Tears pricked her eyes. — I’m not leaving you!

— …I can’t lose you two. — The thought seared her mind. — Who else would I yell at? Who’d put up with me? Who’d—

She didn’t see the next asteroid until it was too late.

A glancing blow to her shoulder sent her stumbling.

— Disappear!

Rage ignited her. Phobos’s jagged edge cleaved the rock in two.

— Tch… Why aren’t I stronger? Jupiter wouldn’t even flinch…

She slapped her own cheeks.

— The hell’s wrong with me?! All I’ve got is you two. So we fight. We survive. Together.

— Lady Mars… — Phobos’s voice cracked.

— Quit sniveling! Deimos, Phobos—forward!

Hours bled together. Bruises darkened her skin. Blood slicked her grip. Still, she stood.

Until—

The asteroids rearranged.

They fused into a monstrous pincer, encircling her, alive with malice.

Mars froze.

Then—a roar.

Jupiter’s silhouette blotted out the sky.

An asteroid slammed into the pincer like a dunk shot.

— Did she just—seriously—style on them?! — Mars gaped.

The pincer shattered.

Jupiter’s hammer—Great Red—sucked the remaining asteroids into its gravity well before pulverizing them with a single swing.

Then she plucked Mars up by the armpits, dangling her like a kitten.

— Little Mars, did you shrink?

— Y-You could’ve come sooner! — Mars’s face burned.

— Sorry, sorry! Haha! — Jupiter grinned. — Saw your continent drifting toward mine and then rushed over. Don’t worry—we’re here now.

Behind her, the Galilean Four materialized: Io, wreathed in volcanic fire, Europa, ice glinting off his pauldrons, Ganymede, towering and silent, Callisto, his cratered armor humming.

— Well, boys? — Jupiter cracked her neck. — Let’s teach these clods what happens when they mess with my little sisters.

As they charged, she turned back to Mars.

— You rest. You’ll need your strength.

Mars’s head bowed. Tears splashed the dust.

— …Thanks, Jupiter. I don’t know what I’d… if I lost them…

— Little Mars crying? First time for everything.

— Shut up… — But she smiled.

— Don’t worry. This stays between us. Now—I’ve got a score to settle.

End of flashback

Mars crossed her arms, surveying the group with a critical eye.

— So that’s how we ended up here. Honestly, I’m surprised you made it through the belt relatively unscathed. Where the hell were you all this time?

— We were at Mom’s castle… — Earth said softly. — She… passed away. When we arrived, only Mercury was there. She told us Mom had been unwell for a while. Jupiter… did you know?

— Of course I knew. Saturn and I were aware.

— Then why didn’t you tell us?!

— Because children shouldn’t bury their parents. You’re all too young to carry that kind of pain. But…

— But?

— Mom died too soon. She should’ve lived another five billion years. Saturn and I are sure of it.

— Then why?

— Don’t know. And it doesn’t matter now. — Jupiter’s voice was uncharacteristically grim. — With your power, little Earth, we can gather the remaining sisters. But survival is all we can hope for. Forget about your little life project. Without Mother… it’s over.

— No…

— Sorry, but it’s the truth.

— I won’t give up! We’ll find another way!

— We’ll try. But prepare for the worst.

Earth nodded hesitantly.

— What’s next? — Mars asked. — Head for Saturn?

— Yes. That’s the plan, — Venus said.

— This. — Luna raised her hand. — Can we replace our leader from Venus to Mars?

— Excuse me?!

— Then Jupiter.

— Going straight for the top!

Jupiter laughed, shaking her head.

— I nominate little Earth as our leader.

— Wh— Me?! But why?

— You already pulled everyone together, didn’t you? And you’re literally piloting this ship. The rest is just details.

— I don’t know if I can handle it…

— Then we’ll vote. — Jupiter raised her hand. — I’m in.

— I support Sister too! — Mercury shot her hand up.

— Aye. — Luna lazily lifted hers.

— Fine by me. — Mars raised hers as well. — Way better than Venus.

— You’re all conspiring against me! — Venus collapsed dramatically onto the ice.

She exhaled sharply, teeth clenched.

— Fine. — She raised her hand. — But only because I refuse to be outvoted.

— Then it’s settled! — Jupiter grinned. — Little Earth, you ready?

— I’ll… do my best…

— Don’t embarrass the title of leader I just held, — Venus huffed, arms crossed.

— Then let’s merge the continents and set sail. — Mars nodded. — To Saturn.

Chapter Text

A week had passed since Earth and Luna had woven the continents together into one massive, root-bound vessel. The chain stretched from Mercury’s scorched plains all the way to Jupiter’s storm-wracked landmass, held together by Earth’s will and Luna’s quiet reinforcement. Mercury’s hammer lay nestled at the base of the roots, its heat radiating through the living wood, while Luna periodically infused the structure with water, ensuring it stayed strong.

— Arrr! — Jupiter stood at the edge of the "deck," one foot propped up like a pirate captain. — All hands on deck! We set sail!

— What is she doing? — Venus sneered.

— It suits her, — Luna remarked.

— That’s not the point!

Earth chuckled, gripping Gaia tightly—

—

Then the world behind them ripped open.

A whirlpool of darkness yawned wide, its maw swallowing the light, the void itself bending inward.

Their eyes widened.

— Damn it! A black hole! — Jupiter roared. — Move, Earth!

Earth and Luna seized the spear together, pouring every ounce of their strength into propelling the ship forward. But it wasn’t enough. The pull was relentless, dragging them backward inch by inch.

— Son of a—! — Mars spat. — We’re still getting sucked in!

— What do we do…? — Mercury trembled, her tiny hands clutching her hammer.

— Europa! Give them a hand! — Jupiter barked.

Europa lunged forward, gripping Gaia alongside them. His hydrokinetic force surged through the roots—but even that wasn’t enough. The black hole’s hunger was insatiable.

— Damn it… At this rate, we’re done for.

— We’re all gonna die! We’re all gonna die! — Phobos whimpered.

Mars silently took her hand. The trembling moon stilled.

The black hole’s event horizon licked at Mercury’s continent, its edges fraying like paper in fire.

— I… don’t feel good… — Mercury gasped, her golden skin paling.

— Mercury! — Venus and Mars lunged for her.

— Come on… — Earth strained, her arms shaking. — We can’t die here… Mom… I’m sorry…

Then—

A glow.

From Earth’s pocket, a soft light pulsed.

— This is…

She pulled out the star-viewing orb—the Sun’s last gift.

— Mom… It’s her warmth… I can feel her…

She clutched it to her chest—

And the world flashed.

When the light faded, Earth’s hair had changed. The violet strands, once hidden beneath green, now dominated, shimmering with an otherworldly hue.

— I can feel it… I can do this…

She fastened the orb to the base of Gaia, gripping the spear with both hands.

— Please… just work.

For a moment, they hovered on the edge of oblivion—

Then—

— We’re moving! — Venus shouted. — Earth, you’re doing it!

Progress was slow, agonizing, but undeniable. Inch by inch, they pulled free of the black hole’s grasp, until finally—

Release.

The ship lurched forward, drifting into calmer tides.

Earth exhaled, her hair reverting to its usual green-and-violet split.

— Good work, Earth, — Mars said, clapping her back so hard she nearly face-planted.

— Yeah, we’d have been toast without you, — Jupiter added, delivering an equally brutal pat.

— Ow, Mars. Ow, Jupiter.

But then she smiled.

— What the hell was that? — Venus demanded. — Your hair, I mean.

— I don’t know… The orb—it called to me. I felt Mom’s warmth, and then… this happened.

— Well, well… — Jupiter shook her head. — One surprise after another. But we’re all in one piece!

— Say that again.

— Earth!

Mercury barreled into her, sobbing into her tunic.

— I thought I was gonna die… Sis, thank you…

— Shh, it’s okay, Mercury.

Earth sighed, then glanced around.

— Wait… Where’s Luna? Oh no… Did she… Did she die…?

A snore.

A weight on her thigh.

— Eh? She fell asleep?! — Earth gasped, as if expecting the opposite.

— Some things never change, — Jupiter chuckled.

— Heh… Guess not.

— Rest for now. We’ll keep moving soon.

Earth nodded, exhaustion finally catching up to her.

Chapter Text

The air in Uranus’s dimly lit room was thick with the electric hum of her console, the glow of the screen casting flickering shadows across her upside-down form. Her disheveled blue hair pooled on the floor like spilled ink, strands tangled from hours of motionless gaming. The controller clicked rhythmically under her fingers as she navigated menus with practiced indifference.

— Fine. Ten diamonds for this skin. — Her voice was flat, almost bored. — They keep getting more and more expensive. Whatever. It’s not like I’ve ever been short on them anyway.

A purchase confirmation flashed on the screen. Without hesitation, she queued into another match.

Then—footsteps. Slow, deliberate. The door creaked open, and a figure stepped inside.

Tall. Stretched. Unnatural.

— So we finally meet, Uranus.

— Oh. Haumea. What do you want? — Uranus didn’t look up, her thumbs still dancing across the buttons.

— Oh? You know me?

— Of course. — A rapid series of inputs. — Height: 165 cm. Mass: 4.006 × 10²¹ kg. Despite your elongated form, relatively small. One of the four major Kuiper Belt dwarf planets. Abilities: spin attacks and fragmentation. Quite dangerous. Personality: notably cruel. Suffers from an inferiority complex due to your shape. Sister to the other Kuiper Belt dwarfs… and, technically, to us.

— Heheh. Impressive, how much you know about me.

— It’s only natural.

— Then you must know why we’re here.

— You were the ones who killed Mother, weren’t you?

— Hohoho. Of course. And after her death… well, I’m sure you understand what comes next.

A DEFEAT screen flashed across the monitor.

— Lost again. — Uranus finally twisted upright, her hair swaying as she righted herself. — I really haven’t been able to focus these past few days. — She turned fully to face Haumea, her expression unreadable. — I know why you’re here. But I’m not handing over my life—I’ve still got daily quests to finish.

A bow materialized in her hands—crystalline, diamond, glinting with an unnatural sharpness.

— Get ready.

Haumea’s jagged grin widened, her chain slithering across the floor like a living thing.

— Ohhh, always am.

The spiked chain lashed forward like a serpent striking its prey. Uranus flipped backward, her body arcing through the air with unnatural grace. For a fraction of a second, she hung upside down, her disheveled blue hair defying gravity as she spoke—cool, detached, as if commenting on the weather.

— I’ll tell you one thing. — Her voice was calm, almost bored. — Chance of your defeat: 97.8%. A dwarf fighting a giant is pointless. Sure, David beat Goliath, but this isn’t that kind of story. — A faint smirk curled her lips. — Next thing you’ll say: "She’s just hanging there, talking."

— She’s just hanging there, talking!

Haumea froze, her elongated face twisting in realization.

Uranus landed lightly and immediately broke into a sprint. The chain pursued her, whipping through the air like a living thing, but she dodged with calculated precision, firing arrows mid-stride.

— Target trajectory unstable. Hit probability: 31%. Critical strike chance: 8%.

The arrows went wide, embedding themselves uselessly in the walls.

Another lash of the chain. Another backflip.

At the peak of her inversion, upside-down once more, she took aim.

— Hit probability: 100%.

The arrow thunked into the chain, pinning it to the wall with a reverberating clang.

— Like I said. Resistance is useless. Muda muda.

— Damn you! Then let’s see you handle this!

Haumea’s body detonated like a grenade, shards of herself hurtling toward Uranus in a deadly spread.

Uranus simply… dodgerolled.

A perfect, frame-perfect evasion.

Even before Haumea’s fragments could reform, Uranus was already aiming at the coalescing mass.

— Accuracy: 97%.

The arrow struck true—piercing Haumea’s newly formed shoulder before she could fully materialize.

— It’s over. Next thing you’ll say: "How did you dodge that?!"

— How did you dodge that?!

Haumea stiffened, stunned by her own words.

— It’s all quite simple. Dodgerolls grant invincibility frames. During those frames, you can’t touch me.

— That’s bullshit!

— Not bullshit. Mechanics. You’d need a billion more years to catch up to me. But, unfortunately, this is where it ends.

— It’s not over yet!

Haumea began to spin, her elongated limbs whirling like a grotesque top. A gravitational vortex erupted around her, warping the air, pulling loose objects toward her with terrifying force. Uranus’ hair whipped wildly in the distortion, yet she remained planted, arms crossed, utterly unfazed.

— Why isn’t she reacting? — Haumea’s thoughts raced. — Any second now, she’ll be pulled in—

— Yes, yes, I will be pulled in eventually. — Uranus interrupted, as if reading her mind. — But my mass is too great. It’ll take time. Smaller objects, though…

— She can’t mean—?!

A series of sharp impacts cut off Haumea’s thoughts. The arrows Uranus had fired earlier—the ones that had missed—were now hurtling toward her, dragged in by the vortex’s pull. Uranus struck a pose.

— Next thing you’ll say: "You planned this from the very beginning, Uranus."

— You planned this from the very beginning, Uranus!

Haumea’s voice was a snarl of disbelief.

— Correct. I don’t even need to flip upside-down to finish you now. Accuracy: 100%. Sorry, sister.

— I won’t die this easily!

In a desperate last move, Haumea shattered again, her fragments scattering like shrapnel before vanishing into the void.

Uranus exhaled, adjusting her hood.

— Tch. She got away.

Her gaze drifted to the shattered remains of her console, the screen flickering weakly.

— …And now I don’t even feel like playing. Curious. Unfamiliar feeling.

She tapped a finger against her bow, thoughtful.

— Jupiter. Saturn. I’m waiting.

Chapter Text

The ship cut through the turbulent currents of the infinite ocean, its hull groaning under the strain of the journey. Before them, Saturn’s continent loomed—a vast, glittering expanse of ice and silver, its rings stretching across the horizon like a celestial bridge. The air here was colder, sharper, carrying the faint scent of frozen metal.

— We’re almost there! — Earth said. — It’s strange she hasn’t drifted too far from Jupiter.

— Perfectly logical, — Jupiter replied, crossing her arms. — My mass affected her gravity. That’s why she didn’t drift away.

— Then that means…!

— I don’t know. Uranus might still be within reach, but Neptune… she’s likely already close to the Kuiper Belt. Either way, we need to move fast if we want to find them.

— Then let’s say hello to Saturn, — Mars said, cracking her knuckles.

The castle of Saturn stood like a monument to elegance—towering spires of diamond-cut ice, bridges woven from frozen threads, and a throne room that shimmered under the pale light of her rings.

— Not quite like Mother’s, but Saturn is incredible! — Mercury gasped, spinning in place.

— Saturn’s domain is very different from ours, — Jupiter mused. — Still as elegant as ever.

— More like show-offish, — Venus muttered.

— Earth, is Venus jealous of Saturn again? — Luna asked flatly.

— Shut up, — Venus hissed, her skin tinging green.

They stepped into the grand hall, where Saturn sat surrounded by her silent, moonlike attendants—eighty-two figures standing in perfect formation, their faces blank, their postures stiff. At the center, Saturn herself sipped tea from a delicate silver cup, her ice-ring dress shifting like living frost.

— Lady Saturn, guests have arrived, — said one of the moons—Titan, the largest among them.

— I see, Titan, — Saturn replied, setting down her cup and rising.

— Where does she even get this many moons…? — Venus whispered.

— Venus, is this a harem? — Luna asked, tilting her head.

— Don’t say that out loud!

Saturn approached Jupiter, her expression unreadable.

— You’ve finally made it to us.

— Of course. All thanks to little Earth here.

— Oh, Earth? I’m not surprised. In any case, we must act. What’s your plan?

— We need to find Uranus and Neptune. And… little Pluto.

— Pluto? — Saturn’s eyes flickered with surprise. — Why bring her up now?

— Mother’s request. Though, finding her will be even harder than the others.

— Naturally. Her orbit was beyond the Kuiper Belt. Right now, it’s unclear how far she’s drifted. For now, sit. Drink. Warm yourselves. My attendants will see to your needs—make yourselves at home.

Later, they gathered around a long table, steam curling from their cups.

— Well? You haven’t been idle, have you? — Mars asked, leaning forward.

— Of course not. I’ve been here. Gathering information. Waiting. And now, you’ve arrived.

— Big sister is more serious than usual today, — Mercury whispered to Earth.

— Huh? You think?

— She’s always like this when things are dire, — Venus said, arms crossed. — Billions of years ago, when asteroid activity was at its peak—that’s when you’d have seen the real Saturn. Nothing like the one you know now.

— Strange… to me, she’s always been the same, — Earth murmured.

— And what have you found, Saturn? — Jupiter asked.

— First, without Mother’s energy, it’s not just us drifting—everything is. Asteroid attacks will grow more chaotic. Anomalies like black holes will increase.

— Meaning more trouble for us, — Mars grinned. — Leave them to me! Phobos and Deimos will crush them!

— Second, without Mother’s energy, we grow weaker. Every moment, it’ll be harder to fight back. Eventually, we’ll be powerless. The asteroids will tear through our lands unchecked. Not immediately, but in time…

— So in the end, we’re all doomed… — Earth whispered.

Somewhere at the table, Mercury sniffled.

— Third. — Saturn paused, long and deliberate. — We can bring Mother back.

Silence. Then—

— W-wait, Saturn, — Mars stammered. — Did I just hear you right?! You’re saying we can revive Mother?!

— I’m not certain of the method. Not certain it’ll work. But it’s all we have.

— And how do you propose we do that?! — Venus slammed her hands on the table, standing abruptly. — Explain! Saturn!

— Hmph. The orb Earth carries—it holds Mother’s energy, however faint. You’ve noticed it, haven’t you, Earth? With how Luna has been sleeping.

— Yes? I just… felt it was her.

— Unbelievable… You don’t even realize why your moon sleeps.

— Then…!

— Don’t rush. That alone isn’t enough. We need a core—something to anchor the energy. In other words… a sacrifice.

The room went still.

— Ah, so that’s it. — Jupiter laughed, loud and booming. — And here I thought it was impossible. Well then, it’s decided. I’ll be the core.

— Since when do you decide that?! — Saturn snapped. — If anyone is to be sacrificed, it’s me!

— And why’s that? I’m the eldest here. It’s my right to decide what’s best for my juniors. Besides, you’ve got over eighty moons who’d clearly miss you. I’ve only got four. And they’re strong. They’ll manage.

— Don’t be absurd! I found the answer, I decide who gives their life. That’s final!

— Try me, Saturn.

— Don’t push me, Jupiter.

— Jupiter! Saturn! Enough!

Earth’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

— Earth!

— Little Earth!

— I don’t want to lose any of you… — Tears welled in her eyes. — Especially when we still have time to discuss this. Together. All nine of us. So for now… let’s focus on finding the others.

Saturn exhaled, long and slow.

— Fine. We’ll table this for now. For the moment… survival comes first. So let’s move.

Chapter Text

Earth sat alone in the bunker beneath her continent, the orb cradled in her hands like a fragile heart. Its surface shimmered with distant worlds—galaxies upon galaxies, realms beyond the Solar Ocean. This time, the vision was different.

A girl with wild violet hair and neon-green sunglasses, chewing gum with lazy defiance, skated across rooftops on rollerblades. The city around her pulsed with impossible geometry—towers of glass and light stretching into a sky choked with floating vehicles. Police drones screeched after her, their sirens warbling through the orb’s silent projection. At the last second, the girl winked—directly at Earth—before vanishing into a neon alley.

— What’re you doing, Earth?

Mars’s voice startled her. She hadn’t heard her approach.

— Huh? Mars? Nothing, really. Just… watching the worlds in this orb. Funny to think it’s not just a window.

— Understatement. Mother clearly knew what she was entrusting to you. Not just a window—a piece of her.

— Seems so. I’d love to visit one of those places someday.

Saturn glided into the bunker, her usual serene smile back in place.

— My attendants will tend to your humans, animals, and plants. They’re the only living things among all our continents, after all. Don’t worry—we’ll provide for them. But first…

She turned toward the cluster of human scientists huddled near Venus, who was enduring their scans with palpable irritation. Saturn’s smile didn’t waver, but the air grew heavier.

— Ara? You’ve hurt my Earth, haven’t you? All these scars and burns… your handiwork?

— Earth, looks like we’re about to have casualties, — Luna muttered.

— Don’t say that!

Earth exhaled, glancing at Venus, who was scowling at a researcher’s prodding device. Their eyes met.

— What’re you staring at?

— Nothing. Just… you seem more like yourself. Less lonely.

— Hah?! Now you’re imagining things.

— Probably. — Earth smiled.

— Earth, Venus is shy around humans, — Luna supplied.

— Oh, shut up!

Earth laughed, then turned to where Jupiter sat cross-legged amidst a circle of wide-eyed children—human and otherwise. Mercury was among them, listening intently as Jupiter spun some grand tale. Luna, of course, had already dozed off against Jupiter’s leg.

— Wait, when did she—?! — Earth blinked.

— Hah! — Mars clapped her on the back. — Some things never change, even during an apocalypse.

— Yeah… — Earth’s smile softened. — I guess they don’t.

Chapter Text

The door slid open with a quiet hiss, revealing Uranus’s dimly lit room. The blue-haired planet hung upside-down from the ceiling, her disheveled hair pooling on the floor like spilled ink. Beside her, Luna was already fast asleep, curled up in a silver ball.

Earth blinked, turning to the spot where Luna had just been standing moments ago.

— Huh? When did she—? — Earth’s voice was a mix of confusion and resignation, as if she’d expected something different.

— Tch. — Mars strode forward, hands on her hips. — Hey, Uranus! Wake up! We’ve got places to be.

Uranus flipped mid-air, rubbing her eyes with a yawn.

— Ah, girls? You’re here?

— Don’t sound so calm, idiot! — Mars snapped. — We’ve got a universe-sized problem, and we came to find you.

— Ah. Right.

Saturn stepped closer, her ice-ring dress shimmering.

— Uranus. You’ve learned something.

— Of course, Saturn-chan. One of the dwarfs attacked me not long ago. And I suspect the others are targeting us too. — She flipped back upside-down, her voice steady. — Haumea. Height: 165 cm. Mass: 4.006×10²¹ kg. Despite her elongated form, relatively small. One of the four Kuiper Belt dwarf planets. Abilities: spin attacks and fragmentation. Highly dangerous. Exceptionally cruel. Makemake. Height: 163 cm. Mass: 3×10²¹ kg. Personality: Toxic, like Venus, and enjoys chaos. Abilities: Mirror Copies—creates ice duplicates to confuse enemies.

— You didn’t have to mention the toxic part! — Venus hissed, her skin tinging green.

— And finally. Eris. Height: 167 cm. Mass: 1.67×10²² kg. Personality: Bitter. Believes she deserves a place among the planets, and that resentment makes her the most dangerous. Powers: Absolute Zero—freezes entire sections of the ocean. Or that’s what I learned of. Arguably the strongest of the dwarfs.

— Honestly, Uranus, their heights and weights seem irrelevant. — Mars deadpanned.

— Is that so, Mars-chan? I’d argue the opposite—the smaller the target, the harder they are to hit.

— That’s not the point. — Mars pinched the bridge of her nose.

— Uranus is… kind of weird. — Mercury whispered to Earth.

— Eh? You think so? — Earth tilted her head.

— Ah! This must be your first time seeing her like this. — Jupiter chuckled. — At first glance, she seems like an airhead who spends all day gaming.

— I can hear you, Jupiter-chan.

— But in reality, her analytical skills rival Saturn’s. …Well, only when she’s upside-down. Her combat accuracy also improves. If she backflips, you can bet she won’t miss. And she can gauge friend from foe at a glance.

— Ha! Nonsense. She’s just playing you, Jupiter. — Venus scoffed.

— Venus. Height: 163 cm. Mass: 4.8675×10²⁴ kg. Personality: Spiteful. Suffers from loneliness due to lacking moons. Envies Earth for fostering life, though Venus once had the same potential. Secretly resents Saturn, knowing she’s not the most beautiful. Fears rejection but lashes out for attention.

— T-that’s not true! At all! — Venus’ face flushed emerald.

— Ooh, do me next! — Mars grinned.

— Mars. Height: 169 cm. Mass: 0.64169×10²⁴ kg. Personality: Passionate. Fiery in speech and battle when provoked. Protective of the younger ones, seeing it as her duty. Hides her hair under a cap, believing it’s "too pretty for a warrior." Deeply attached to Phobos and Deimos, fearing their loss would leave her as lonely as Venus. Blunt—the polar opposite of Venus.

— Lady Mars… — Phobos murmured, touched.

— Well, some of that’s true. — Mars scratched her head, laughing awkwardly as her cheeks reddened.

— My turn. — Luna raised a hand.

— Eh?! You were eavesdropping? — Earth gasped.

— Luna… — Uranus stared at her, expression unreadable. Then she shrugged. — Don’t know.

— Eh?! — Earth squawked.

— How unfortunate. — Luna yawned, already dozing off again.

— Eh?! Back to sleep already? — Earth groaned, as if hoping for a different outcome.

— Anyway, here’s the situation. — Uranus flipped back to face the group, her gaze sharp despite her inverted posture. — Neptune is likely near the Kuiper Belt. Your ship’s deviation: 87.8 degrees. Earth-chan, sync with me, and we’ll set sail.

— And how do you know all this, Uranus? — Venus narrowed her eyes.

— Don’t be dense. She’s seen it, little Venus. — Jupiter sighed.

— Yeah. Save the details for the trip. — Uranus stood, stretching.

— …Uranus? — Jupiter’s voice softened as she noticed something. — You’re not taking your console?

— …Don’t feel like it. Not after… Mother died. And I’ve been losing lately. Would just ruin my mood.

— Uranus…

Chapter Text

The edge of Neptune’s continent was a desolate expanse of frozen plains, where the ocean of space met jagged cliffs of blue-black ice. The air here was thin, almost nonexistent, carrying only the faintest whisper of distant currents. Neptune sat with her knees drawn close, her long blue hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of liquid nitrogen. Beside her, Triton stood vigilant, his presence a silent anchor in the void.

— Lady Neptune, we are nearing the Kuiper Belt, — Triton said, his voice steady but soft, as if afraid to disturb the fragile quiet.

— Yes…? Time moves so quickly. It feels like only yesterday… — Neptune shook her head, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her dress. — No. Mother is gone. I must accept that.

— Lady Neptune, everything will be alright.

— Triton. You’re too close. Step back, please.

— Lady Neptune, I cannot. As your moon, it is my duty to remain by your side and protect you.

— Fool… My cold will freeze you solid one day.

Triton smiled, undeterred.

They sat in silence for a long while, the only sound the distant creak of shifting ice. Then Neptune stiffened.

— Lady Neptune—

— I know.

Behind them, the air shimmered, and Makemake stepped into view.

— It’s been a while, Makemake.

— Heeheehee! I’m surprised you remember my name, Neptune.

— I remember all my sisters. Especially you four. You were always… alone.

— Don’t speak like you understand us! — Makemake’s grin widened, but her eyes remained hollow, reflecting nothing. — The Sun acknowledged you, while we were forced to linger in the dark. Even you weren’t cast aside like we were, Neptune.

— No. But I do understand. I, too… have always been alone. So far from my sisters. Triton was the only one I had, and even then…

— Lady Neptune…

— Why are you here, Makemake?

— Heehee, isn’t it obvious? To kill you. And all the others.

— But… why?

— It’s simple. I hate you. Soon, a new star will take the Sun’s place, and we will be its first planets. You? You’ll just be… footnotes in history.

— Makemake.

— Hm?

— I don’t care if you threaten me. If you want to kill me, so be it. But my sisters— — Neptune’s eyes darkened, her voice dropping to a glacial whisper. — Threatening them… is unforgivable.

Triton vanished in a ripple of light, materializing as a gleaming spear in Neptune’s grip.

— Heehee! Someone’s grown fangs. — Makemake’s laughter echoed across the ice. — Come on, Neptune! Show me what you’ve got!

The frozen battlefield lay silent for a heartbeat—then Makemake's ice spears materialized in the air around her, hurtling toward Neptune in a deadly barrage.

Neptune didn't flinch. With a single twist of her wrist, Triton spun in her grip, his form blurring into a whirling barrier that shattered the projectiles on contact.

— No matter how strong you think you are, you’re no match for us, Makemake.

— Heehee, I know. But it’s still worth a try!

Makemake lunged, her hand clamping onto the shaft of Neptune’s spear.

— So what if I’m weaker than you or any of your precious sisters? That doesn’t mean I can’t win.

Neptune’s eyes widened as a biting cold crept up her spine. She backflipped away just as an ice clone struck from behind, the attack grazing empty air. When she landed, she found herself surrounded by a half-dozen shimmering copies of Makemake.

— Tch. Dodged.

— Makemake, fighting dirty won’t guarantee victory. Please. Surrender.

— To you? Never! Your death is just the first step toward our new world. Oh, but you’re curious about your sisters, aren’t you?

Neptune’s throat tightened.

— Don’t worry, they’re safe for now. We planned to wipe them out all at once with a black hole, but… someone ruined that with a flashy new power. Next time, we won’t miss.

— That’s… cruel.

— Hah?

— You’re cruel, Makemake. Leave my sisters alone. Or else… I’ll have to kill you.

— Heehee! How can you still not hate me after what I’ve said?

— How could I ever hate my own sisters? It’s true—I was always distant. Mother gave me less energy because I was so far away. I used to watch the others… fighting, laughing, living so close to her. By all rights, I should’ve envied them. But I… I was happy for them. Truly happy. Even if I barely knew them… even if we rarely spoke… I cherished their joy.

— Heehee, how adorable. And how stupid. You’re clinging to planets who never spared you a thought!

— Maybe. But an elder sister doesn’t abandon family.

— Heehee, what a fool.

— Triton. We end this.

— Yes, Lady Neptune.

Neptune charged, cleaving through ice clones with Triton’s razor-sharp edge. Makemake retaliated, summoning fresh spears that rained down like hail. Neptune weaved through them, closing the distance—until, with a final thrust, she aimed for Makemake’s heart.

— It’s over, Makemake!

Then—a voice. Familiar.

— Neptune! We’re here!

Neptune turned. There stood Earth, her green-and-violet hair tousled from the journey, eyes bright with relief.

— Earth…?

— We’ve been searching for you so long! I’m so glad we found you!

— Where are the others?

— Right behind me! They’ll be here soon. Oh, I’ve missed you!

Earth rushed forward, arms outstretched for an embrace—but Triton moved. In a flash, he rematerialized in human form, tackling Neptune to the ground just as "Earth" detonated in a blast of jagged ice.

Triton shuddered as frost crawled up his limbs, his body locking in place.

— Lady Neptune… are you unharmed?

— Get off me, Triton! You’re freezing!

— Didn’t I tell you? It doesn’t matter if I turn to ice. All that matters… is that I stay by your side. As your moon. As your—

— Triton…

Neptune reached for his face—then stopped.

— No… I can’t. But… thank you.

They rose together, Triton’s movements stiff but unwavering.

— Heehee! How touching. A second later, and you’d have been scrap iron.

— Using a fake Earth as bait… That’s low even for you, Makemake. Triton, step back. I’ll handle the rest.

Neptune raised her hand. Behind her, hundreds of ice spears materialized—a glacial arsenal dwarfing Makemake’s.

— Heehee! One-on-one, then?

Makemake mirrored the gesture, but when the spears collided, Neptune’s sheer numbers overwhelmed her. Shards pierced Makemake’s shoulders and legs—only one grazed Neptune’s cheek, but she didn’t blink.

As the ice settled, Neptune strode forward.

— It’s over, Makemake.

— It’s never over!

The clones surged again, swallowing Makemake whole. By the time Neptune shattered them, her foe had vanished.

— She ran…

— Lady Neptune! Your cheek—

— It’s nothing, Triton. But… thank you. For everything. Today, I realized… I truly do value you.

— Lady Neptune…

— Which is why you must keep your distance from now on.

— …Understood.

A sigh. Then—footsteps.

— It’s been a while, Neptune.

Neptune turned.

— Pluto…?

Chapter Text

The ship docked against Neptune’s frozen continent with a quiet thud, its hull groaning as it settled into the ice. Neptune, Pluto, and Triton stood waiting—Neptune’s expression unreadable as ever, Pluto’s pale face half-hidden behind her ragged hair, and Triton standing just a step too close to his mistress.

— Neptune! — Mercury launched herself forward, arms outstretched.

— Mercury… please, get off me. — Neptune stiffened, but didn’t push her away. — You know I’m too cold.

— So what? I’m the hottest planet after Venus. We balance each other out.

Earth approached, her smile warm despite the chill.

— Earth. — Pluto stepped forward, her voice barely above a whisper.

— Huh? When did she—? — Earth blinked, glancing around. — Wait, where’s Luna?

A soft snore. Earth turned—only to find Luna fast asleep on her back, clinging like a silver-haired barnacle.

— Huh?! When did this happen?! — Earth flailed, genuinely shocked this time.

— Earth. — Pluto’s voice drew her attention back. — I want to join you.

— Really, Pluto?

Pluto nodded.

— That’s great! We’d love to have you.

— Don’t be hasty. — Mars crossed her arms. — Why should we trust her?

— Exactly! — Venus sneered. — If the dwarfs are behind this, like Uranus said, it’s only logical she’s with them.

— True. — Pluto’s voice was calm. — It would make sense. But I have little in common with them. And… I know what they’re planning.

— You know, little Pluto? — Jupiter leaned down, her massive frame casting a shadow over the dwarf planet.

— Yes. They… killed Mother. Drained her energy. Now they want to become the core of a new system.

— It’s true. — Neptune’s whisper was icy. — Makemake told me as much.

— But how do you know all this? — Mars’ eyes narrowed.

— Eris… offered me a place with them. I refused. I don’t wish harm on my sisters…

— Well, well… — Jupiter sighed, shaking her head.

— Then we stop them. — Saturn’s voice was smooth, but her rings shimmered dangerously. — Now that we’re all together, we can return to Mother and bring her back.

Pluto nodded.

— Then let’s merge Neptune’s continent and set sail. — Earth turned, determination flashing in her eyes.

She took a step toward the united landmass—

—when space ripped open beside Jupiter’s continent.

A black hole.

Earth’s eyes widened.

The sky above Neptune’s continent trembled as the four giants—Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune—soared upward, their hands outstretched in unison. The gravitational vortex roared beneath them, its dark maw swallowing light and space alike.

— Push harder! — Jupiter’s voice boomed across the battlefield, her muscles straining as she fought against the pull.

Below, Earth sprinted toward the center of the merged continent. Mercury’s molten touch cleared a path through the ice, and Earth drove Gaia deep into the soil. Luna, ever the silent shadow, placed her small hands over Earth’s on the spear’s shaft.

Earth pressed the orb against the weapon, her inner violet hair surging outward.

— Now!

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then—a shudder. The continent lurched, its movement agonizingly slow against the vortex’s hunger. Then it went backwards.

— Why isn’t it working?! — Earth’s voice cracked. — Come on! Come on!

The black hole’s grip tightened. Jupiter’s continent groaned, its edges splintering as debris spiraled into the abyss. Jupiter herself convulsed, her massive frame trembling.

— Jupiter! — Saturn’s cry was sharp.

— I’m fine…! Not… done yet…!

Earth’s breath hitched. Tears streaked her face as she watched her eldest sister falter.

— Jupiter!

— Don’t mind me, little Earth! Do your job!

A sob tore from Earth’s throat. In one fluid motion, she snatched the orb from Gaia and launched herself into the sky.

Her hand stretched toward the vortex.

— Zero Gravity!

The black hole’s advance slowed. The continent’s drift reversed, inch by torturous inch.

— We’re moving! — Venus shouted.

— Little Earth…

— What’s wrong with you all?! — Earth roared. — I told you I wouldn’t let any of you die! I can’t lose anyone else!

With a final, desperate scream, Earth poured every ounce of her will into the orb. The vortex shuddered—then collapsed in on itself, vanishing with a sound like a shattered mirror.

Silence.

— Earth, you did it! — Saturn’s praise died in her throat as she followed Earth’s gaze.

The violet-haired planet stared into the void, her expression frozen in horror. Something up there had shaken her to the core.

Jupiter landed beside her, a massive hand settling on her shoulder.

— Little Earth? You okay?

— Huh? Jupiter? — Earth blinked, as if waking from a trance. — Sorry… I thought I saw… I don’t know. Are you hurt?

— All good, thanks to you.

— I’m so glad.

— Damn, little Earth! — Jupiter grinned, though her eye held concern. — You’ve been pulling stunts like this a lot lately.

— Y-you think?

— Hell yeah! Now let’s get down and head to Mother.

Earth nodded, but not before casting one last glance at the empty sky.

Chapter Text

The ocean stretched endlessly beneath them, its surface shimmering with the reflection of distant celestial bodies. The roots of Earth’s continent coiled through the tides, guided by Luna’s silent command, as the eight sisters sailed forward—united, determined.

Then, the waters ahead rippled.

Three figures emerged from the depths, their silhouettes cutting through the mist like blades. Haumea, elongated and sharp, her spiked chains already unspooling at her sides. Makemake, her mirror-smooth skin reflecting the others’ faces in fractured distortions. And Eris, standing tallest, her presence alone enough to still the currents around them.

— So, we meet again, Uranus, — Haumea said, her voice a slow, deliberate drawl.

— Haumea, — Uranus replied, her usual playful tone absent. She tilted her head, her blue hair swaying with the motion.

— Heehee, didn’t even have time to miss me, did you, Neptune? — Makemake giggled, her voice layered with the echoes of her duplicates.

Neptune said nothing. Her grip tightened on her spear, Triton, its tip glinting coldly.

— I’ve waited an eternity for this moment, — Eris murmured, her breath frosting the air between them. — And now, all eight sisters stand before me. — Her gaze flickered. — Hm? Pluto… you’re with them?

— Yes, — Pluto answered, her voice quiet but unshaken. — And I will do everything in my power to stop you.

— Pointless. Even you cannot stand against the might of the new star.

Earth stepped forward. The roots beneath her feet surged, as if responding to her will.

— Eris! Haumea! Makemake! Today, we end this! We will bring Mother back!

— Futile, — Eris sighed. — Even if you somehow defeat us—which is doubtful—it won’t matter. The Sun is beyond saving.

— Unless we use the orb containing the last of her energy, — Saturn interjected, her voice cool.

— So, you do know. — Eris’s lips curled. — It changes nothing. By the time I ascend as the new Sun, it will be irrelevant.

— But… why, sisters? — Mercury’s voice trembled, her small fists clenched at her sides. — Why are you doing this? We could have… we could have been family!

— Easy for the Sun’s favorite to say, — Haumea spat. — We were discarded. Like scraps. Like failed drafts. The Sun never acknowledged us. As if we didn’t even exist.

— That’s not true, — Pluto said softly. — She did care. Even if we were far from her, she never forgot us.

— Pluto, you rarely even visited her. You wouldn’t know.

— No, I do know. — Pluto’s voice wavered, just for a moment. — Because I was the one who chose to stay away. I didn’t want to cause her any more pain. And when I told her that… she cried. She blamed herself for not being able to give us enough warmth, for not being able to care for us the way she did the others. She wanted us to be part of the family.

— How touching, — Eris said, unmoved. — It doesn’t change the outcome. We will tear down this old world and build a new one—with us at its center.

Mars’s twin blades, Phobos and Deimos, flashed as she spun them into position.

— Then prepare yourselves, — she growled. — For battle.

The battle erupted in an instant.

Uranus, Earth, and Mars lunged at Haumea in perfect sync.

— Ho? Three on one? — Haumea smirked, chains rattling. — This’ll be fun.

— Last time, we didn’t finish this, — Uranus growled. — Next thing you’ll say: “I’ve gotten stronger since then.” But it won’t matter!

— I’ve gotten stronger since then— — Haumea froze mid-sentence. — You—! You’re mocking me!

Her body exploded like a grenade, shrapnel-like fragments spraying outward.

— Earth Shield! — Earth slammed her hands down. A wall of bedrock erupted, swallowing the debris. Mars was already moving, blades aimed at Haumea’s reforming torso.

— This is the end!

Haumea twisted at the last second.

— Tch. Almost had me, Mars.

— I wasn’t aiming for you, — Mars said flatly. — Only thing I’ll say is… don’t underestimate us.

— What—?

Haumea turned.

Uranus hung upside-down in the air, bow drawn.

— Accuracy at 100%. Owari da.

The arrow punched through Haumea’s shoulder.

— You little—!

On the other flank, Neptune and Venus faced Makemake’s mirrored clones.

— Heehee, this should be interesting, — Makemake giggled, her voice overlapping.

— Don’t flatter yourself, — Venus snapped, fanning acid droplets from her sleeves. — A new planet? Pathetic. I—no, we—will bring Mother back!

Neptune hurled Triton. It missed.

— Heehee, what’s wrong, Neptune? You’re sloppier than last time.

— Gravity Field, — Neptune murmured.

Makemake’s eyes widened as the spear reversed mid-air, hurtling back. She barely dodged.

— You—! Take this! Ice Javelins!

A barrage of frozen spears shot toward them. Venus flicked her fan—acid rain dissolved the projectiles mid-flight.

— Cheap tricks won’t save you, — Venus said, fanning herself.

— Tch.

At the battle’s heart, Eris stood unwavering.

— We’ve come too far to surrender now! — Saturn’s rings shifted into bladed bracelets.

— Little Eris, quit while you still can, — Jupiter cracked her knuckles.

— Futile. My resolve is absolute. And—

She caught Mercury’s hammer mid-swing with one hand.

— —don’t think I didn’t prepare.

— She… stopped me?! — Mercury gasped.

— Speed means nothing if your timing’s predictable. Now, disappear.

A kick sent Mercury rocketing back toward the continent.

— Little Mercury! — Jupiter roared.

— You’ll pay for that! — Saturn unleashed a Ring Blizzard—a storm of ice and wind.

Eris raised her arms, straining against the onslaught.

— Tch. Even with the Sun’s power… giants are troublesome.

Jupiter appeared beside her.

— This is for Mercury!

— Absolute Zero.

Time froze. For one second, the world turned still.

— I… can’t move—! — Jupiter gritted.

— What is this?! — Saturn gasped.

— Tch. To think you made me use this. — Eris kicked Jupiter away, then lunged at Saturn.

As time resumed, Saturn barely blocked.

— You’re not our equals.

Saturn and Jupiter staggered to their feet, their breaths heavy but resolve unbroken.

— Tch. To think little Eris would be this troublesome, — Jupiter spat, wiping frost from her cheek.

— Then let’s show her the might of her elders, — Saturn replied, her rings humming with energy.

— Was wondering when you’d say that.

Jupiter reached up and tore off her eyepatch, revealing the swirling crimson storm beneath—the Great Red Spot.

Eris’s breath hitched.

— Great Red Spot.

— We’re coming.

In unison, they launched themselves skyward, flanking Eris from both sides.

— Take this! Double... — Jupiter’s fists glowed with gravitational fury.

— ...Gravity! — Saturn mirrored her, rings flaring.

The air screamed as opposing forces wrenched Eris apart. She groaned, her body straining against the invisible tides threatening to tear her limb from limb.

Pluto stood motionless amidst the chaos, her icy dress fluttering in the battle’s wake.

— Feeling useless too?

She whirled around—but Luna was already curled into a ball, fast asleep.

— Eh? When did she—?

A faint smile touched Pluto’s lips.

— Yes. I feel useless. But that doesn’t mean I’m doing nothing. Right now... I’m supporting them. In my own way.

Haumea’s chains lashed toward Earth—only for Mars to intercept, her twin blades Phobos and Deimos locking the links in place.

— Not happening, Haumea.

— Heh. I was counting on that. — Haumea’s grin widened. — Now that you’re close... let’s spin up the vortex!

Her body twisted violently, chains whirling like a deranged centrifuge. A gravitational anomaly erupted—a miniature black hole—sucking everything toward its crushing embrace.

— This is the end, Mars!

— True, your technique works best when someone’s already in range... — A voice cut through the roar.

— What?!

Haumea turned.

Uranus hovered behind her, upside-down, bow drawn.

— But the downside? You can’t dodge. Which makes you... — She smirked. — Easy prey. Next thing you’ll say: "You little—!"

— You little—! — Haumea froze, eyes bulging.

— Accuracy: 100%. Critical hit: 10% x3 arrows. Shine.

The arrows blazed forward, punching into Haumea’s back. The black hole sputtered—and collapsed.

Venus flicked acid from her fan, dissolving Makemake’s ice clones like sugar in boiling water.

— Heehee, looks like I’m losing~, — Makemake giggled, though her voice lacked its usual mischief.

— Naturally, — Venus scoffed.

Makemake glanced sideways—at Eris straining against Jupiter and Saturn, at Haumea writhing from Uranus’ arrows.

— Tch. Seems I’m not the only one...

The battlefield fell silent as gravity’s grip shattered.

— Absolute… Zero.

Time froze again—just long enough for Eris to stumble back, out of range.

When the world lurched back into motion, Jupiter and Saturn blinked at empty air.

— Tch. She fled.

Eris stood at a distance, her chest heaving. Her eyes flickered—assessing, calculating.

— Haumea. Makemake. To me.

The dwarf planets staggered toward her, wounds glistening.

— We’re losing. But…

Eris seized both by their skulls.

— Eris… what are you—? — Haumea choked.

— Giving us a future.

— You—you can’t do this to us! — Makemake thrashed.

— Now… or never.

Their bodies glowed, then dissolved—swallowed whole by Eris’s hunger.

A flash. A scream.

When the light faded, Eris stood transformed.

A white mask covered her eyes, her mouth left bare. Flowing white robes, hair like frozen starlight. Power radiated from her, thicker than solar wind.

— Impossible… — Saturn whispered.

— She feels stronger than Mother ever did… — Uranus’s voice wavered.

— How do we fight that? — Mars’s grip on her blades tightened.

Eris flexed her fingers.

— Transformation complete. All that’s left… is to erase the trash and build a new system atop your bones.

— You’ll lose, sister.

Pluto stepped forward.

Eris laughed.

— I’m stronger than all of you combined. This ends now.

— You’re wrong, Eris.

Earth gasped.

— That’s… my orb in her hands…

— Our sisters fought harder than you or I ever did. — Pluto’s voice was soft, but it carried. — They endured. They remembered you. Mother remembered you.

Flashback

A memory—warm, fragile.

The Sun, her mask lifted, cupping Pluto’s face. Tears glimmered like molten gold.

— Pluto… since you’re leaving… please, watch over your sisters. They’re… lonely too. My little one… stay safe…

Flashback end

— That’s why I know Mother would want us to stop you. — Pluto turned to the others. — Girls… I’m sorry. But the sacrifice… has to be me.

— No! — Earth’s tears fell freely. — There’s another way! There has to be!

Pluto shook her head.

— Only Mother can fix this.

— But she’d want to see you too!

— Let it be me. Not any of you. — Pluto smiled, bittersweet. — I’ll always be with you. In this core. In Mother’s core.

Jupiter covered her face.

— Goddamn it, kid… You were always this brave?

— Even when we forgot you… you never forgot us. — Saturn’s voice cracked.

— I don’t wanna lose you! — Mercury sobbed.

— Kick her ass! — Mars snarled—but her lips trembled. — …Damn, this hurts.

Venus turned away, acid tears burning the ground.

— Idiot… I wanted to know you better.

— I’m sorry, Pluto… — Uranus whispered. — I was… so lonely. I should’ve stayed with you. With Neptune.

— I’ll… miss our talks. — Neptune’s spear clattered to the ground.

Pluto wiped her eyes, then faced Earth.

— The moment I become the core… use me. My strength. But promise you’ll win.

— I can’t! Please—!

The orb flared, swallowing Pluto whole.

— Earth… — Her voice faded, a ghost on the solar wind. — You’re so kind… I wish… we could’ve been friends… like you wanted… Goodbye… Earth… Sisters… Mother…

Light vanished.

Only the yellow core remained, pulsing gently in Earth’s shaking hands.

— Pluto…

Earth screamed.

Violet light erupted—her hair lengthened, armor gleaming white. When her eyes snapped open, they burned gold.

— ERIS! — Her voice was a storm, a vow. — We’ll win! We’ll bring Mother back! Even… even without Pluto!

Eris smirked.

— Come, then. Let’s see how long you last.

The world blurred as Earth lunged forward, violet light trailing behind her like a comet’s tail.

— Pointless. I told you.

Time stopped.

— Even in this form, you can’t resist Absolute Zero. And now… it lasts five seconds. Longer, each time. — Eris’s masked face tilted. — One second already gone.

Her fist aimed for Earth’s skull.

— Die.

CRACK.

Eris’s head snapped sideways—Earth’s fist buried in her jaw.

— Wha—?!

Time resumed. Eris screamed, hurtling backward into the ocean, waves erupting like a crater.

— IT’S THE SAME TYPE OF STAND! — Uranus crowed.

— Stop referencing things! — Venus screeched.

— No… something’s off. — Saturn’s rings hummed.

— Oh? — Uranus flipped upside-down. — Now I see it.

Earth’s golden eyes blazed.

— She’s not stopping time or resisting Eris’s freeze. She’s just… perfectly predicting it.

— Sis Earth is SO COOL! — Mercury vibrated.

— This makes me want to fight even MORE! — Mars trembled, gripping her blades.

— Hah! — Jupiter slapped her back. — Same here!

— Hey, you— — Mars paused, staring at Luna, now curled asleep on Neptune’s lap. — Eh? When did she—?

— DON’T STEAL EARTH’S PUNCHLINE! — Venus howled.

Eris rose, wiping blood from her lips. The mask had cracked.

— Tch. Underestimated you, Earth.

— This power isn’t just mine or Pluto’s! It’s everyone’s! My sisters! The lives on my continent! Mother’s! I’m not fighting alone!

— Then I’ll erase the source of that strength. SUPER NOVA!

A sphere of annihilation formed—and hurtled toward Earth.

Earth swatted it aside like a stray comet.

— WHAT?!

Eris didn’t even see the next blow. Earth’s fist slammed into her gut, launching her skyward.

— Not—done—yet! ABSOLUTE ZERO!

Time froze again. Eris gasped.

Multiple Earths surrounded her.

— Clones?! No… Afterimages?! — Her breath hitched. — Her speed… or she’s calculating every move I could make.

Two seconds passed.

— Just… retreat.

She leaped back—

TIME RESUMED.

Earth’s fist crushed her mask, the impact whipping hurricane winds across the battlefield.

— IMPOSSIBLE!

— All that talk of becoming a star. — Earth chased her through the air, fist still lodged in Eris’s face. — DON’T MOCK ME! We were made by Mother! She loved us—even when we were worlds apart! Pluto understood that! She gave everything for our happiness! YOU’RE JUST A SELFISH PLANET WHO KILLED HER!

— EARTH!

— ERIS! AAAAAH!

The final punch detonated. Eris plummeted, her white robes shredding, her form flickering like a dying star.

Earth landed softly as Eris crumpled, her transformation unraveling. Her body glowed, edges dissolving into light.

— It’s over, Eris.

— Heh… To lose… to Earth… — Eris coughed, her voice brittle. — I just… wanted to matter…

— Sister… — Earth knelt. — I always wanted to visit other worlds. See how they lived. I thought… maybe I’d take you and the Kuiper Belt sisters along. You’re the closest to the edge of the Solar System, after all. But…

— You tell me this NOW?! — Eris laughed, blood on her teeth. — Not that I’d agree… but that’s cruel.

— I didn’t know… how much you were hurting.

— The Sun… no. Mother. She… loved us?

Earth nodded.

— Tch. Maybe this was all… a waste. — Eris’s glow intensified. — Promise… you won’t forget me.

— Never. You, Haumea, Makemake… none of you.

— What… have I done to them… — Eris’s form frayed. — Goodbye… Earth.

— Goodbye… Eris.

Her light scattered—a final supernova, silent and bright.

Chapter Text

The throne room was exactly as they remembered it. The Sun sat motionless upon her throne, just as she had on the day she died.

Earth stepped forward, cradling the pulsing core in her hands. Her fingers trembled.

— Mother… we’re home.

— This better work, — Venus muttered, arms crossed.

— It has to work. I… think. — Saturn adjusted her rings nervously.

— No, it will work, — Uranus said, upside-down as usual.

— Then what are we waiting for? — Mars cracked her knuckles.

Earth’s breath hitched. Jupiter’s massive hand settled over the core, covering Earth’s smaller ones.

— Jupiter!

Jupiter only grinned.

One by one, the others joined—Mercury’s tiny palms, Venus’s delicate fingers, Saturn’s icy touch, Mars’s calloused grip, Uranus’s upside-down clasp, Neptune’s shy press. Even Luna, still asleep, somehow managed to flop a hand onto the pile.

— Girls…

Earth wiped her tears away. Together, they lowered the core onto the Sun’s lap.

For a heartbeat—nothing.

Then—

Light.

The core flared, its golden glow seeping into the Sun’s still form. The air hummed, the throne room trembling as if the universe itself held its breath.

— Did it… work?

The Sun’s fingers twitched.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, her eyelids fluttered open.

— Mama!

Mercury was the first to move—launching herself into the Sun’s arms with a sob.

— I thought I lost you! Never do that again, okay?!

The Sun blinked, dazed.

— My girls… I had the strangest dream. — Her voice was hoarse, like embers stirring. — You were all there… Haumea, Makemake, Eris too. I… I felt happy.

— Yeah, we’ll… explain later, — Mars scratched her head.

— How do you feel? — Jupiter asked, looming over her.

— A bit sore… but otherwise… whole. — The Sun smiled, cupping Mercury’s cheek. — You saved me. Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune… Luna.

— Luna? — Earth blinked, then looked down.

Luna was curled up on her lap, fast asleep.

— Eh?! When did she—? — Earth yelped, as if expecting anything else.

The room erupted in laughter.

— Mama, — Venus stepped forward, her usual sharpness softened. — Pluto… She sacrificed herself to become your core.

The Sun tilted her head.

— Pluto? Who’s that?

A beat of silence.

— Don’t tell me you don’t remember… — Venus’s voice wavered. — She was our sister. Your daughter.

— Was she? — The Sun frowned, distant. — I don’t recall a child by that name. And yet… — She pressed a hand to her chest. — There’s this ache. Like I’ve misplaced something… something precious.

— Then we’ll tell you everything, — Jupiter said firmly. — But first—up you go, Mama. We’ve got a solar system to rebuild.

— Are you stupid?! — Venus snapped. — She needs rest!

— Mother, — Neptune murmured, stepping forward. — Let me care for you while you recover.

The Sun laughed—a sound like sunlight breaking through clouds—and nodded.

— It’s good to be home.

Chapter Text

A week had passed.

The continents of the planets, once scattered across the infinite ocean, now formed a perfect ring—a united celestial disk beneath the golden glow of the Sun’s castle. The sisters stood together at the edge, gazing at their handiwork.

— Now we can always be close, — the Sun murmured, her voice warm as dawn.

— Yeah, and it’s all thanks to Earth. — Mars slapped Earth’s back with enough force to nearly topple her into the grass.

— Indeed. Without her power, we’d still be drifting apart. — Jupiter added her own thunderous pat from the other side.

— Ow! Mars! Jupiter! — Earth rubbed her spine, wincing. — Also, I managed to purify all the continents. Perfect conditions for life. In a few million years, who knows? Maybe something amazing will bloom. Imagine that, Mom!

The Sun rested a hand on Earth’s head, her smile softer than sunlight through leaves.

— You’ve grown so much, my little one. I’m so proud of you.

Earth’s face turned the shade of her own biosphere’s roses.

— Oh, come on, Earth. For once, you deserve the praise. — Venus flicked her braids over her shoulder.

— Earth, I calculate a 98.7% probability Venus is jealous. — Luna piped up, eyes still closed.

— Accuracy upgrade: 100%, — Uranus confirmed, upside-down as usual.

— Both of you, shut up!

Laughter rippled through the group, bright and unburdened.

— Ah! Right! — Earth clapped her hands. — I have to explore beyond the Solar System now. The orb showed me so many worlds! There was one with a purple-haired demoness—oh, and this futuristic place where a girl was running from the cops? Also violet hair, weirdly.

— So much purple, sis! Like your hair when you go supernova! — Mercury bounced on her toes.

— They do sound intriguing. — Saturn mused.

— Hey, if you’re going, I’m coming! — Mars cracked her knuckles.

— Me too! And me! — Mercury chirped.

— Ugh. Fine, I’ll tag along. — Venus sighed. — Someone has to keep you all from dying horribly.

— You may all go. — The Sun’s voice was a gentle decree. — I’ll watch over the system while you’re away. Thanks to you… it’s finally at peace.

— Then it’s settled! — Earth threw her fists skyward. — Soon, we’ll go somewhere incredible—

A weight slumped against her back. She turned.

Luna clung to her like a sleepy barnacle.

— Eh?! When did she—?

The laughter this time was loud enough to shake the stars.

The end [?]

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