The hum of the ship's engines was a thin, fragile thing against the silence in the cockpit. Lyra sat at the helm, eyes fixed on the star-streaked void outside, hands clenched white-knuckle tight on the controls.
Behind her, Kaelen sat slumped in the co-pilot's chair, head bowed, his usually steady breathing uneven.
"You're quiet," she said finally, breaking the oppressive stillness.
"I'm thinking," he muttered. Then, after a pause, "About how close I came to killing you."
She turned sharply toward him. "That wasn't you. That was—"
"It was me," he snapped, louder than intended. He dragged a hand down his face, trembling. "It used me, yes. But those thoughts—the rage, the doubt—it didn't create them. They were already there."
Lyra swallowed, unsure of what to say. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that none of it mattered—but lies wouldn't save them now.
Before she could answer, a low chime sounded from the nav console. An incoming transmission—encrypted, but not by any system Lyra recognized.
Kaelen frowned. "Who the hell—?"
She tapped the console. The screen flickered, and a face appeared—a young woman with copper skin and a cascade of silver hair, eyes sharp as blades.
"Kaelen Veyr," she said coolly. "And Lyra Daan. You don't know me, but we need to talk. Now."
Lyra stiffened. "Who are you?"
The woman's lips curved in a humorless smile. "Name's Sera Thal. I'm the last living Archivist of the Gate."
Kaelen sat bolt upright. "That's impossible. The Gate was—"
"Destroyed?" Sera cut him off. "That's what they want you to believe. The Key you're searching for? It's tied to the Gate. And if you're not already dead, it means Aetherion's playing their hand early."
Lyra felt a chill creep down her spine. "You know about Aetherion?"
Sera leaned closer to the camera, her eyes hard. "I know more than you can imagine. Meet me on the world of Vaelora in three cycles. Come armed. And… don't trust anyone."
The transmission cut off.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Kaelen exhaled slowly. "Archivist of the Gate. If she's telling the truth…"
Lyra's gaze drifted back to the stars, unease settling in her chest like lead. "If she's telling the truth, we're already in deeper than we realized."
In the shadowed corner of the cockpit, unseen by either of them, a small device embedded in the ship's hull blinked once—red, almost imperceptible—before going dark again.
They weren't alone.