The sky above the destroyed platform was no longer gray.
It glowed in a gentle golden hue, as if light itself had decided to stay. Mist hovered over the cracks in the ground, carrying fine sparks that occasionally flickered—like the breaths of a sleeping giant.
Alaric stood amid the debris field, still smeared with soot, hands braced on his knees. His breath came in bursts, as if fighting against the silence. Each beat of his heart sounded too loud, too alive—a painful contradiction to what was missing.
Rhea sat a few meters away, her face pale, the radio module in her hands. Her eyes searched for data, measurements, anything that might explain what had happened. Beside her stood Eiko, quieter than usual. No comments, no smile. Just that brief tremor in his jawline, betraying that he would cry if he knew how.
"No trace?" Alaric asked hoarsely.
Rhea shook her head. "No signature. No frequency. No life signs."
"Then search differently."
"I've gone through every variable."
