Avaris Archives No. 001

“Every world has a flavor—most will never taste it.”
—Unknown Essencier

I used to believe that.

Back when I stood among them—among the Essenciers—I thought we were doing something extraordinary. Bottling experience. Distilling entire worlds into something consumable. A shortcut to wonder.

They called it brilliance. Innovation. Progress.

But I remember the harvesters.

Massive, steam-driven machines that rattled the ground beneath your feet. Loud enough to drown out thought. Thick with the scent of extraction—metal, heat, and something… wrong. They claimed the process was minimal. Non-intrusive.

The planets would disagree.

Borealis, especially.

There was a time when jasmine bloomed there year-round. The air carried it—soft, constant, alive. Now, it comes and goes in fragile cycles. Each year, a little less certain than the last. The land feels… quieter.

Like something is being taken faster than it can return.

I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

So I left.

I traded the noise for something slower. Something deliberate.

Now, I travel by airship—moving from planet to planet, harvesting botanicals by hand. Not extracting… but gathering. Taking only what each world can offer without harm. Drying, preparing, and sharing those botanicals across the system.

It is harder work.

But it feels honest.

Essence… is something else entirely.

It induces a heightened state of perception—an intoxicating euphoria. A way to experience a world without ever setting foot on it. For a moment, you feel everything: the air, the soil, the energy of a place.

They call it the most joyous solution ever created.

Curated and controlled by the most brilliant minds in the system.

I see it differently now.

The Essenciers have become something… removed. A class of indulgent elites, more concerned with control than connection. They speak of preservation while draining the very worlds they claim to celebrate.

And people are starting to notice.

Essence is becoming scarce. Expensive. Distant.

The imbibers—the ones it was meant for—are stepping away.

And the planets…
the planets are changing.

Harvesters leave scars. Port cities swell with noise, waste, and excess. The balance is shifting, and not in our favor.

This is why I chose a different path.

From Essencier… to Celestial Botanist.

Now I move through the Avaris system with intention.

To the scorching deserts of Solterra, where life thrives under relentless sun.
To the misted mountains of Indara, where patience shapes every leaf.

Each world offers something—if you’re willing to listen instead of take.

This work is slower.

Smaller.

But it matters.

I don’t harvest essence.

I work with what is real.

And maybe… that’s where the future begins.

—Ava