Morty had never seen anything like her.

Not in all the planets, timelines, or nightmares Rick had dragged him through. Solara Vey didn’t walk like someone from this world—she moved like gravity bent toward her. Her hair shimmered with streaks of solar flame and nebula mist, and her eyes… her eyes looked like they’d seen stars be born and die.

She stood in the ruined remnants of a collapsed Earth protest camp, ashes from incinerated signs still floating in the air. Morty was supposed to meet Rick here, but instead he found her—alone, breathing in the destruction with something like grief in her expression.

“Who… who are you?” he asked, voice cracking slightly.

She turned, and the warmth in her expression almost broke him.

“I’m Solara,” she said simply. “I came here looking for a world that still believes in change.”

Morty swallowed, feeling small and stupid under her gaze. “You’re, uh… not from around here.”

“No.” Her voice was like light—soft, but radiant. “But I saw your world from the Rift. I saw its suffering… and I saw you.”

“Me?”

She nodded. “You looked like someone who still feels things. That’s rare.”

He didn’t know what to say. For once, he didn’t try to impress or deflect. He just stood there, watching her kneel down beside the scorched earth and place a glowing palm over it. Life sparked from the ground grass growing and spreading, healthy trees and flowers growing where destruction was.

They’re high above any known Earth—on a shattered piece of land hovering in the sky, surrounded by stars and drifting chunks of atmosphere. Rick called it “Skygrave-4,” a forgotten dimension no one cared to terraform.

But Solara saw it differently.

She stood barefoot on the rocky edge, arms raised to the sky, her body glowing faintly in the darkness. As she moved, light flowed from her fingertips—thin strands of gold and violet arcing into the sky like dancing lightning. The stars responded. They pulsed brighter, humming in sync with her.

Morty watched from a flat stone nearby, jaw slack. He didn’t know if he was more captivated by her or the scene she was weaving.

“Is this… magic?” he asked softly.

Solara glanced over her shoulder, her smile like dawn. “Not magic. Just harmony.”

She walked toward him, every step leaving tiny blooms of glowing moss in her wake. Her hair floated slightly, as if she was always halfway between falling and flying.

“Here,” she whispered, kneeling beside him. She reached for his hand.

Morty hesitated, heart pounding. “Will it hurt?”

“No,” she said gently. “But you’ll feel everything.”

He let her take his hand.

Instantly, warmth surged up his arm. Not burning, not electric—just real. Like sunlight through cold skin. He gasped as his senses opened wide. The stars above seemed closer. The floating world around them slowed. He could hear vibrations in the wind, feel the soft hum of her energy wrapping around his spine like a hug.

He laughed—quiet and stunned. “This is… insane. You’re… you’re beautiful.”

She leaned her forehead against his, closing her eyes.

“So are you,” she murmured. “In your chaos. In your doubt. I’ve never felt anything like you.”

Morty swallowed thickly, not sure if he was about to cry or kiss her.

“Don’t go,” he whispered. “Please.”

She didn’t answer right away. But her fingers laced into his, and her glow pulsed steadier.

“For now,” she said softly, “I’m here.”

And under a sky that shimmered with her power, Morty kissed her like she was the only thing keeping the universe from falling apart.