Mom,
I know you'll never read this letter. But I'm writing it anyway, because that's how I keep talking to you. Maybe you can hear me from where you are, maybe you even smile when you hear me rant the way I always did.
You should have been there. You should have seen us walk out of that hell.
Yes, Mom, we made it out of the Loop. They didn't destroy us. Not completely, anyway.
Do you remember what you always told us: stay together, no matter what. They tried to tear us apart, to erase our memories, to break us. But even when I couldn't remember my own name, there was something inside me searching for Mira. And on her side, she never really let go of me either. I think it was your voice that held us together.
Now, we're free. Not truly free, since the war has swallowed us whole, but free to choose to fight. We both enlisted, and I know you would have been afraid. But I believe you would have understood. We couldn't just sit by and watch.
We live in what they call the Citadel. It's an old complex, buried underground, a mix of concrete, metal, and cold. You would have found it bleak, but I think you would have liked the energy inside. The walls are covered with graffiti—black birds, slogans, insults against Vlad. It's ugly, it reeks of damp and sweat, but it's alive. It's better than the gray walls of the Loop, better than any cell.
And most of all, there are people. A makeshift family, a little battered but solid. Tinka and Gunther, the Citadel twins. You would have laughed seeing them: bickering all day long, but if one falls, the other is already there. It reminds me of us.
Gunther has this protective streak that does me good—sometimes he feels like the big brother I never had. Tinka, she always has a comeback ready to put you in your place. Thanks to them, we feel less alone.
There's also Piotr: twenty-seven, but steady in a way that reassures you. He watches over Mikel like a bodyguard, but he can be funny when he relaxes. Anya, the doctor, is incredible: patching people up with nothing but fishing line and willpower. She impresses me.
And then… Mikel. Yes, that Mikel. Vlad's son. I know, Mom. I would have thought the same as you: no way a Gagarin could be one of us. And yet, he is. Not just "by accident." He's holding on, he's learning, he's fighting. There's nothing of a prince in him, nothing of privilege. He's just a guy like us, scarred by a father he despises. And I think… Anya and he are starting to find each other. You would have liked to see that. It's quiet, shy, but it's there.
But what I really want to tell you about is Mira. Your daughter. Your youngest. She's here, Mom. And she's strong. Stronger than me, I think. She still has that sharpness you knew in her, that way of seeing everything, of understanding without a word. But now there's something more: a calm rage, a determination that amazes me. She lived through hell, and she still smiles, sometimes. She still fights, always. She makes me proud every single day.
And… I have to confess something. Mira has found someone. Well, not "found." She chose. She loves. And I can see it. It's serious, Mom. This isn't some wartime fling. You should have seen her face when she told me—or rather, when I figured it out.
His name is Ilya. He's… surprising. You might have rolled your eyes at first: he's sarcastic, always ready with a remark. And then there's his metal arm, telling on its own everything he's been through. But with Mira, he becomes something else. Gentle, attentive, sometimes even funny in ways I'd never have expected. I saw him place his hand on her knee when she was shaking, look at her like she was the only thing keeping this world standing.
I'm not one to trust easily, least of all when it comes to her. But him… him, I know. I know he'll never let her go. He's exactly what she needed. When I see them together, I tell myself that if I fall tomorrow, she won't be alone. And just for that, I'll be grateful to him all my life.
I think he's crazy about her. And she is too, for him. You would have loved to see the way they tease each other, the way they hold each other up. It hurts and it heals at the same time to watch them, because it reminds me of what you wanted for her: for her to find someone who truly loved her.
So here we are, Mom. We live, we survive. Sometimes we laugh, often we cry. But we're here. We're together. And we've found people around us. A family we never thought we'd have.
I don't know if we'll win this war. But I can promise you we'll go all the way. That I'll take care of her. That I'll never leave her alone.
I love you.
Your son,
Elijah