Aizih Thriexa POV

  I sat beside Sam, watching as she set up the first official social media presence for the Eova. The process seemed strange to me—creating an account, uploading a profile image, choosing a name. It felt so… human. Yet, as I saw Sam’s excitement grow, I realized that this was important. This was how we would bridge the divide between our people.

  “Alright,” Sam said, leaning back in her chair. “We’re live. Now, we just need to start posting.”

  Jace chuckled from across the room. “So what’s the first post going to be? A grand speech? Some inspiring words about unity?”

  Sam smirked. “Nope. We’re going to show them something real. Something simple.”

  She turned on her camera and pointed it at both of us. “Hey, everyone. I’m Samantha Strickland, and this is Aizih Thriexa, leader of the Eova. You’ve heard a lot about the Eova over the past few months—some true, some false. But we want to show you who they really are. No politics, no speeches—just their everyday lives. So, let’s start with a normal day for Thriexa.”

  She turned to me, and I blinked at the camera. “A normal day?” I repeated, uncertain.

  Sam grinned. “Yep. Just do what you normally do. But talk to the camera like you’re talking to a group of people. Explain what you’re doing, why it matters. Let them hear your voice, not just see you moving through your day. Make them feel like they’re walking alongside you.”

  I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. So, I just… speak to them?”

  “Exactly,” Sam said encouragingly. “Be yourself. People want to connect with you, to understand who you are—not just as a leader, but as a person.”

  I hesitated, then nodded. “Alright. Then let’s begin.”

  The next few hours passed in a blur as Sam followed me throughout the settlement, camera in hand, capturing everything from my morning meetings to the moments in between. The first stop was a gathering of the Klaro healers, where they discussed recent treatments they had administered to both Eova and humans alike. A young child, barely old enough to walk steadily, ran up to one of the healers and threw their arms around her, giggling with delight.

  Sam turned the camera on herself, her face filled with awe. “Okay, I know I shouldn’t be surprised anymore, but this is incredible. Look at this! A child who was probably near death a few weeks ago is now running around, all thanks to them. People need to see this.”

  She swung the camera back toward the healers as I approached, speaking with them about their progress. One of the Klaro, a woman with a calming presence, smiled warmly at me. “We’ve treated dozens more in the past few days. Many human doctors have begun working alongside us. They want to learn. They want to help.”

  Sam’s voice came from behind the camera. “That’s huge. People back home think this is some kind of alien miracle, but it’s not—it’s knowledge, it’s care, it’s effort. Humans and Eova, working together.”

  The next stop was the agricultural sector of the settlement, where the Bopro and human scientists worked side by side, adjusting hybrid irrigation systems that combined Earth’s natural resources with Eovan efficiency. Sam panned the camera over the scene, her voice excited. “Okay, so apparently these systems triple crop yields while using a fraction of the water. And before you ask, yes, they’re already sharing the technology with human farmers. If you ever thought aliens were here to take from us—think again. They’re literally giving us better ways to grow food.”

  I smiled as she turned the camera back on me. “This isn’t just about survival for us. It’s about integration. If we share what we know, if we learn from each other, we all benefit.”

  As we moved through the settlement, Sam continued filming small, unplanned moments—the way an elderly Eova carefully wove intricate fabric patterns, teaching a young Jaret girl the technique; how Trenal playfully sparred with a group of young Borzork warriors, showing them new footwork techniques; the laughter that rang through the open gathering spaces as humans and Eova shared stories, music, and food.

  At one point, Sam turned the camera back to herself, shaking her head. “I don’t even know how to explain what I’m seeing. It’s… it’s just life. People living, growing, learning. The way it should be. But I know there are people out there who will never believe it unless they see it with their own eyes. And that’s why we’re doing this. Because the more people see, the harder it’ll be to pretend this isn’t happening.”

  She turned the camera back toward me as I helped a small group of young Eova plant a new row of seedlings. “So, to anyone watching—this is Aizih Thriexa. This is the Eova. This is the truth.” She filmed me speaking with my people, checking in on families, discussing future plans with the Klaro healers. Nothing staged, nothing forced—just my daily life.

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  At first, I felt self-conscious, aware of the camera tracking my movements. But as the day wore on, I found myself forgetting it was there.

  As I turned a corner near the medical station, a familiar voice called out. “Thriexa!”

  Before I could react, a small figure barreled into me, arms wrapping tightly around my waist. I looked down, startled, only to see Robin grinning up at me, her excitement radiating through her entire being.

  “Robin!” I laughed, bending slightly to return her hug. “It’s good to see you.”

  She pulled back just enough to look at me, her eyes wide with excitement. “Are you making a video?” Her gaze flicked to Sam, who was still holding the camera. “I heard you talking to it! What’s it for?”

  I smiled, kneeling slightly to be at her level. “Sam is helping us show the world who we really are. We want people to see our lives here, what we do every day. So they don’t have to be afraid.”

  Robin’s eyes widened. “Like… so humans can see what it’s like to be Eova?”

  Sam nodded. “Exactly! We want to show them that the Eova aren’t so different from humans. That they work, laugh, play—just like we do.”

  Robin beamed. “Then I definitely want to be in the video!”

  Robin turned to the camera. “Hi, everyone! This is Thriexa! She’s the best alien ever!”

  I felt warmth bloom in my chest at her words. “Thank you, Robin. That means a lot.”

  Sam grinned. “I think we just found our youngest Eova ambassador.”

  Jace, Sam, and I were huddled around her laptop, the dim light from the screen reflecting off our faces as we watched the footage play back. It was strange seeing myself through this human lens—through their technology, their way of documenting the world. But the more I watched, the more I understood.

  “This is incredible,” Sam murmured as she reviewed the footage. “You’re not just leading them—you’re with them. This is what people need to see.”

  Jace leaned over her shoulder, watching as she edited the clips together. “How do you think people will react?”

  Sam exhaled, her fingers hovering over the keyboard for just a moment before she clicked the final button. “Some will love it. Some will hate it. But that’s the point. We’re showing the truth. And that’s how we win.”

  The screen refreshed as the video officially went live. A weight settled in the air around us, heavier than I expected. This wasn’t just a simple upload—this was the moment we opened our world to humanity in a way that had never been done before. No ambassadors, no filtered messages—just us, unguarded and real.

  Jace let out a slow breath, breaking the silence. “It’s done. There’s no going back now.”

  Sam nodded, her gaze locked on the screen as notifications started to pour in. “No going back. Only forward.”

  Sam nodded, her gaze locked on the screen as notifications started to pour in.

  I stared at the screen, waiting, expecting some sort of instant reaction. But aside from the numbers ticking up, there was nothing. No immediate outrage, no sudden acceptance—just silence.

  “Shouldn’t people be saying something?” I asked, glancing at Jace. “Isn’t that how this works?”

  Jace chuckled, shaking his head. “Give it time, Thriexa. Humans don’t all react instantly. Some will, but most will need to watch, process, share. This is new for them.”

  I frowned but nodded, forcing myself to be patient.

  Two hours later, Jace and I were sitting down for dinner when Sam burst into the room, laptop clutched in her hands. Her face was flushed with excitement.

  “You need to see this!” she exclaimed, setting the laptop on the table between us.

  Jace and I leaned in, and I gasped at the numbers on the screen. “Millions?”

  Sam grinned. “Millions of views. Comments are flooding in, shares are skyrocketing—this is bigger than I expected. Look!”

  She scrolled through the reactions, a mix of amazement, support, and skepticism. Some thanked the Eova, expressing gratitude for the Klaro’s healing efforts, sharing emotional stories of loved ones who had been saved. Others marveled at our way of life, fascinated by the glimpses of Eova culture, asking questions about our customs, our history, and what it meant to live as we did.

  But then there were the voices of fear. People who insisted we didn’t belong, who called us invaders, who warned that we were a threat to humanity’s survival. Their words were sharp, filled with paranoia and misinformation, echoing the growing narrative of resistance against us.

  And in between, there were those who simply wanted to know more. People who weren’t sure what to think but were eager to see what came next. “I never thought I’d care about aliens, but this is actually interesting,” one comment read. Another: “I want to know more. Who are they? What do they believe? What do they want from us?”

  Sam’s fingers hovered over the keyboard as she took it all in. “This is exactly what we needed. People aren’t just reacting—they’re engaging. They want answers, and we have the chance to give them.”

  Jace exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, we wanted a reaction. We definitely got one.”

  Sam was already pulling out a notebook, flipping to a blank page. “We need to build on this. Keep the momentum going. If we stop now, people will lose interest, and the ones spreading fear will take over the conversation.”

  I nodded, still scrolling through the endless wave of comments. “What do we do next? More videos?”

  Sam tapped her pen against the paper. “Yes, but not just more of the same. We need variety—short clips, personal stories, even live Q&A sessions where people can ask the Eova questions directly. Make them feel involved.”

  I glanced at Jace, who was watching with interest. “You think this will really help?”

  “I think it’s already helping,” Sam said, turning the laptop toward us again. “Look at these replies—people defending the Eova, calling out the lies, sharing their own experiences. The more we show them, the harder it’ll be for the Human Purity Movement to twist the truth.”

  I took a deep breath. “Then let’s make sure they see everything.”