**Jasmine's Log, Supplemental**
**Verdant, en route to the cove**
**45 hours 5 minutes to Black Fleet Landfall**
Contrails carve the sky.
Angels ride the wind.
Ghosts guard the way.
The cove waits below.
Jasmine leaned low over Verdant's neck, the wind whipping past her face as the dragon flew in tight formation with the escort group. The VS-44 Wyvern held steady just off their port side, its angular form powerful and reassuring. Two VS-22 Jackals flanked the formation, their fusion-torch hybrid engines glowing faintly in the afternoon light. Verdant's powerful wings beat with rhythmic strength, easily keeping pace with the slower shuttles.
An hour had passed since liftoff from Shire Base. The valley had long since disappeared behind the foothills, and now they flew low and fast toward the coast, the landscape a blur of green and gold beneath them. Jasmine's new comm-ear bud felt strange yet reassuring in her ear. She had already tested it twice, her voice linking cleanly with the entire escort group.
Then the sky split open.
Two thunderous sonic booms rolled over them like the crack of divine whips. Jasmine's head snapped up. High above, two pairs of brilliant white contrails slashed across the blue, arrow-straight and impossibly fast. The Delta Force pilot's voice came crisp over the shared channel. "Heads up. We got our angels flying CAP."
Almost immediately, two sleek Switchblades dropped from the contrails, their extended forward-swept wings gleaming as they bled off speed in a graceful, sweeping arc. They glided past the slower formation, too fast to match the Wyvern's pace, but close enough for Jasmine to see the gold-tinted canopies.
"Angel One, Royal," came a warm, confident female voice—Valerie, speaking directly to Jasmine. "Nice to finally meet you in the air. Looking good down there. Your dragon is magnificent."
"Angel Two," added Kaze, her tone lighter, almost playful, addressing the whole formation but clearly including the Switchblade pilots. "We'll keep the sky clear for you. Just don't let that dragon of yours get jealous—we're only here to watch your back." Jasmine couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips despite the tension. "Thank you, Angels. It is… reassuring to have you above us."
The Delta Force leader, callsign Ghost, came on the channel next, his voice calm and authoritative, cutting clearly into the VS-44 for the ground team. "All stations, this is Ghost. Quick briefing while we have clear air. Callsigns are set: Switchblades are Angel One and Two for early warning and air defense. We are Ghost—Delta Force ground element. Princess, you are Royal. Reapers are CAS. Stonefang, you are now Ridge. Everyone copy?" A chorus of affirmatives crackled back, including a low "Ridge copies" from the VS-44 where Stonefang rode.
Ghost continued, his words directed clearly toward the VS-44 for the ground team. "The plan is simple but critical. Our escort group arrives at the cove in approximately one hour. Ghost team secures the landing zone first—perimeter, threat scan, clear any hostiles. Two engineers are accompanying us to clear brush and trees for the Condors. Ridge—" he addressed Stonefang directly. "—Your job is forest watch. Use those senses and experience the elders spoke of. Anything out of the ordinary—scent, sound, movement—you give the team a heads-up immediately. We've already fitted you with an ear-comm like Royal's. Tap once to talk, tap again to stop. You are our eyes and ears in the trees. Questions?"
Stonefang's reply came through the channel, his voice gruff but steady. "I understand. I have hunted these woods since I was a cub. Nothing moves without my knowing. I will speak the moment the green feels wrong."
"Good man," Ghost replied, warmth in his voice. "Royal, your role is coordination and PR. Once the fleet arrives, you'll be the face and voice for your people. Talk them through disembarkation, reassure them, and work with us on integration. Any questions from you?"
Jasmine leaned forward slightly, speaking into the comm. "Only that my people are exhausted and frightened. They have never seen machines like these. I will do everything I can to keep them calm."
"Understood," Ghost said. "We'll keep the show of force minimal on the ground. Reapers will stay high for CAS unless needed. Angels will provide early warning and air defense—anything bigger than a bird comes near, they handle it. The Rothguard fleet itself is still approximately eleven hours out. We all clear on roles?" A round of confirmations followed.
One of the Delta Force operators in the VS-44 cut in with light banter to ease the tension. "Hey Ridge, you ever ridden a wind hawk at Mach speeds? Because these Wyverns make them look slow. If you start feeling green, just remember—barf bag is your friend." Stonefang gave a low, rumbling chuckle over the channel. "I have ridden hawks that would make your metal birds seem tame. But I will keep the bag close… just in case the sky decides to spin." Kaze laughed. "Smart man. Angel Two copies. We'll keep the sky clean so you don't have to worry about anything but the trees below."
The banter continued in light waves—questions about each other's roles, small jokes about first flights and forest hunts—each exchange carefully designed to loosen nerves while keeping everyone sharp. Jasmine listened, feeling the fragile bridge between worlds grow stronger with every word. The formation held steady, racing north toward the waiting cove.
The dragon from the east was coming.
But now, at least, they would not face it alone.
The green watched from the ridge.
The strangers prepared.
Two worlds were flying together.