The Wraith drifted through the hush of starless space, nestled within a dark nebula known to no chart no light, no signal, no pulse strong enough to give them away.
It was the kind of quiet that didn't exist during war.
The kind of quiet that felt like forgetting how to breathe.
Elara stood at the viewport in her quarters, wrapped in the oversized grey jumper Nova had tossed at her earlier. Her damp hair curled against her neck. No armor. No Seed. No command decisions.
Just silence.
Her reflection blinked back at her in the glass, and she wasn't sure which of them was real anymore.
She touched the spot where the Revenant had once mirrored her and felt only skin. Warm. Alive.
The door hissed open softly.
Aeron.
He paused in the doorway, one hand braced on the frame. He looked older now line drawn, soul-tired but real. Present.
"I knocked," he said, a little awkwardly. "But I think your comm's off."
"I wanted it off."
"Can I come in?"
Elara nodded.
