Not whensheis what I’m guarding.
Later, I awaken in the half light. Her hair brushes my jaw every time she exhales, and I stay still, soaking in the warmth, the scent of her—salt and skin and something sharper, like ozone caught between lightning strikes. Her skin still hums against mine, heat lingering from everything we shared hours ago. Everything we made.
I want to stay like this.
Forever, if the stars are feeling generous.
But the pull starts in my spine. That low, unavoidable awareness that something unfinished waits beyond this moment.
I ease out of the bed, slow enough not to wake her. She murmurs something—half a sound, a breath—but doesn’t stir beyond shifting her face deeper into the pillow. Her brow smooths out when I tug the blanket higher over her shoulders.
She trusts me.
That alone is enough to bring me to my knees.
But there’s one last thing I have to do.
I pull on just enough gear to access the comm port tucked behind the garden simulation’s maintenance panel. Outdated tech. Which makes it perfect. No one checks these lines anymore. Most of the Coalition’s surveillance algorithms reroute through newer relay systems. This one’s old. Analog-heavy. Easy to bypass.
I hook in my data spike, crack the encryption in five seconds flat.
The message window blinks open.
Recipient: Serat
Origin: Tatek | Provisional Override Clearance – Red Sigil
I stare at the blank text field for a long time.
There’s nothing tactical to say. Nothing strategic to justify what I’ve done. What I’vebecome.
Only this:
“The bond is complete. She is truth. I will not yield.”
I don’t encrypt the message beyond standard cloak. I don’t add a signature.
Vakutans don’t write love letters.
This is the closest we ever get.
I hit send.
The line goes dark.
And somehow, I feel lighter.
When I turn back toward the bed, she’s still asleep.
Still mine.
Stilleverything.
And I make a silent promise to whatever gods might still be listening:
No matter what comes next, I will protect her.
Even from myself.
