The roof of the Drifting Leaf was cool and quiet, a world away from the packed common room below. The air up here was clearer, carrying the faint, sweet scent of the inn's blooming outer walls. Lucian sat on the edge, his legs dangling over the side, watching the endless stream of air-cars weave between the neon-lit spires of Varros Prime. The lights were beautiful, but they felt empty.
The soft crunch of a boot on moss behind him didn't make him turn. He knew the step.
Marc settled down beside him, his large frame making the organic structure creak in protest. For a few minutes, they just sat in silence, two brothers under a foreign sky.
"Thinking about something?" Marc asked, his voice a low rumble that fit the night.
"Yeah," Lucian said, the word quiet. He wasn't one for sharing, but the weight of the last few days, of Kaela's visit, of the title 'Omega' now floating in the air, pressed down on him. It all felt so far from where they started.
