The Wraith had drifted for nearly twelve hours on low-power cruise, its engines humming soft like a lullaby. Most of the crew had settled into quiet rhythms Nova sleeping with a blaster under her pillow, Damien rigging a new diagnostic suite out of spare parts, Valen stillness incarnate in the lower observatory.
But Elara couldn't sleep.
Not with the hum still in her head.
Not with the feeling that something hadn't ended. Only changed shape.
She stood barefoot in the bridge corridor, watching the stars through the glass. They shimmered too perfectly. Like the universe was holding its breath.
Footsteps behind her.
Aeron, of course.
"You feel it too," he said.
Elara didn't ask what. Just nodded.
Down in the medbay, Damien's console chirped a quiet, looping blip, buried beneath layers of diagnostic clutter. He frowned, tapped a key.
The pulse wasn't coming from the ship.
