The Wraith drifted in high orbit, weightless above the remains of Helix. Below, the once-pristine Architect complex now lay dormant, its fractured towers slowly succumbing to gravity and time.
Inside the ship, for the first time in weeks, the silence felt... earned.
Elara stood barefoot in the medbay corridor, arms folded as she watched the stars outside flicker against a field of cooling nebula dust. Her body still ached from the Seed's final pulse, like she'd walked through fire wearing skin that wasn't hers anymore.
She hadn't spoken much since they left Helix.
Not because there was nothing to say.
But because some victories weren't loud. Some were stitched in breath, in stillness, in simply surviving.
Footsteps approached behind her.
Aeron.
He didn't say anything right away. Just leaned beside her, arms brushing.
For a long time, they watched the stars in tandem.
"Still no voices?" he asked finally, half-serious.
