But we’re clear.
For a moment, time doesn’t move. The engines hum. The skeleton of burnt metal drifts past our viewports. The smell of ozone, burnt circuit resin, and pure, raw adrenaline fills the cockpit. I taste blood in my mouth—mine.
Vex is asleep in my arms, exhausted. His head lolled sideways, mouth slightly open, a thin trickle of drool glistening on my chestplate. He’s so small, so tender, unaware of the chaos we just escaped.
Clint slumps into the pilot’s seat, hair disheveled, breathing ragged. He looks at me, nods once. No words needed.
Kalow curls up beside Nefarious in one corner of the bridge. Honeybear is already ransacking the emergency rations.
I draw a breath and shift slightly so I can look at Ella. She is still on the med-bunk, pale under the harsh light, but awake. She squeezes my hand. Her lips quiver.
I lean forward, pressing my forehead to hers. The tremors of the ship hum in our bones.
“Thank the gods,” I murmur—so low only she hears.
She gives me a weak smile. “I thought… I thought I wouldn’t see your face again.”
I swallow. “You will. We all will.”
We drift in space. No star marker in sight.
“We’re off-trajectory from Flame’s blast,” Clint says, his voice rough. “No one’s likely to follow. For now. But we need a destination. Somewhere remote. Somewhere off the map.”
Ella looks up at me. “Anywhere. Just away from their reach.”
I nod. “Anywhere with you and Vex. That’s home now.”
I adjust my grip on our son.
Takhiss, Ella, Vex—together. A fragile family cobbled out of blood and war.
And as we drift into the black, leaving behind the ruins of Ataxia’s ambition, I vow something to the cold void:
We’ll plant our roots again. Somewhere the war can't find us.
Because we are alive. We are together.
And for now, that is triumph enough.
CHAPTER 47
TAKHISS
Earth is quiet in a way no world I’ve ever been on can match.
Three years. It feels like a lifetime ago that we were bleeding in an airlock, and yet the peace here is so absolute it sometimes feels like a dream I haven’t woken from.
The Nova Scotia sky spills soft gold at dawn—long days stretching into amber hours. The nights are deeper than ink, unreachable stars swallowed by low clouds. The forest basin around us holds silence like a blessing.
This is our new home. A backwater rock in the Sol system that the Coalition ignores and the Alliance forgot about decades ago. Perfect.
We tucked into a shady patch near the forest’s edge. The little wood cabin we found—half-ruined when we stumbled on it—has become ours. I spent weeks patching floors, sealing leaks, laying hearth stones. Ella planted a garden. The air always smells like moss and damp earth and the faint smoke of her cooking supper.
I don’t care it took losing everything to land here. We’re free. She’s still by my side. That’s enough.
Morning light filters through the window as I stir from sleep. Ella’s beside me, propped up on pillows, reading abattered holobook. In the kitchen, Vex hums—barefoot, tousled hair—scooping oatmeal on the stove. The scent of simmering cinnamon drags me fully awake.
I slip from bed quietly. Feet bare on cold wood. I cross to the window, peek out—golden rays dancing on dew-drenched ferns.
