I knew I would make the same decision again.
Why didn't that terrify me?
The slipspace lines blurred as my eyes unfocused. The ship hummed around me, steady and indifferent, as if nothing had happened at all.
I felt the Knights reach for me through the Tether. Not urgently. Not in alarm. Just concern brushing against the edges of my awareness.
I wasn't ready.
I let the connection dim.
I just need a little time.
Understanding met me immediately. No resistance. No pressure.
The connection eased, and I was alone again with the stars, the silence, and the knowledge that something inside me had changed.
I don't know how long I sat there before I felt him. Not through the Tether, but physically. From the soft echo of footsteps in the dark corridor to my right, the familiar hint of sandalwood.
Lyrin stopped in the doorway.
He didn't say anything. He just stood there, holding space for me. His presence was a question I could answer or ignore.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"You can come in," I said.
Lyrin crossed the alcove and lowered himself to the floor beside me. Close enough that our shoulders almost touched, but not quite. He settled against the window, mirroring my position, and looked out at the stars.
We sat like that for a while as the ship hummed around us.
Finally, I spoke.
"I keep waiting to feel something more."
Lyrin didn't look at me. "More than what?"
"More than… this." I gestured vaguely at myself. "I planned a mission. People died. And I'm sitting here feeling calm. Like I've already made peace with it."
"You expected guilt."
"I expected something. Horror. Regret." I turned my head to look at him. "Instead, I keep thinking about how I'd do it again. The same way. The same choices."
Lyrin was quiet for a moment.
"The people we lost today didn't die because you made a mistake. The people we saved are alive because of the plan you made."
"I know. That's not what's bothering me." I pulled my knees tighter. "Four months ago, I couldn't have done this. Couldn't have made the call, couldn't have lived with the outcome. Now I can. And I don't know what that makes me."
Lyrin turned to face me fully. In the pale starlight, his features were softer, the hard edges smoothed away.
"It makes you someone who has become more."
"That's a kind way to put it."
"It's the correct way." He reached out and took my hand. "The person you were before couldn't have saved anyone today."
I did understand. That was the problem.
