CH.7
Celeste Adler had always been defined by her resilience—or so everyone around her liked to say. From a young age, she had learned to weather storms, to brace herself against the inevitable waves of loss that life sent crashing into her world. But the truth was far more complex. Resilience wasn't a shield, nor was it a cure for heartbreak. It was simply a way of surviving, a way of carrying the shattered pieces forward even when they cut deep into her skin.
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Her story began in the small, sun-drenched house she called home. Celeste grew up in a quiet neighborhood that seemed frozen in time, its streets lined with trees that bloomed every spring like clockwork. Her parents were her world—a picture-perfect couple who laughed and danced their way through life, teaching Celeste that joy could be found even in the simplest moments.
But one night changed everything.
Celeste was thirteen when the accident happened. A rainy evening, a slick road, and one fateful mistake—that was all it took. She remembered sitting by the window, waiting for her parents to return home, her book forgotten as the clock ticked past midnight. The knock at the door came shortly after, shattering the fragile illusion of safety she had clung to.
Her uncle was the one who told her. His voice was steady, almost detached, as he explained that her parents wouldn't be coming home. Celeste didn't cry—not at first. She simply stared at him, her mind refusing to process the words. It wasn't until days later, at the funeral, that the weight of her grief finally broke through. She stood by their graves, surrounded by strangers offering condolences, and felt the crushing emptiness that would follow her for years to come.
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Life moved on, as it always does, but Celeste struggled to find her footing. Her uncle took her in, offering a roof over her head and a semblance of stability, but the warmth and laughter she had once known were gone. She withdrew from the world, burying herself in books and sketches that allowed her to escape into a reality she could control.
It wasn't until college that she began to heal—or at least, that's what she told herself. Studying archaeology gave her a sense of purpose, a way to connect with the past and uncover stories that had been lost to time. She excelled academically, earning accolades that painted her as brilliant, determined, and focused. But underneath the surface, she still carried the scars of her childhood, scars that shaped every decision she made.
And then she met Ethan Reid.
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Ethan was everything Celeste wasn't—bold, optimistic, and endlessly curious about the world. He approached life with a spark of wonder that drew Celeste in, challenging her to embrace the unknown. Their relationship began as a partnership, both of them driven by the same passion for discovery and innovation. But it didn't take long for their connection to deepen, their shared dreams intertwining with the quiet intimacy that comes with love.
Ethan saw Celeste in a way no one else had. He didn't pity her for her past, nor did he try to fix her. Instead, he celebrated her strength, her sharp wit, and her unwavering determination. With him, she felt seen—truly seen—for the first time in years.
Their love was imperfect, as all love is, but it was real. Together, they built a life filled with laughter, adventure, and late-night discussions about their future. Ethan's dream of merging humanity and technology became Celeste's dream too, a vision they worked tirelessly to bring to life.
But dreams, as Celeste would learn again, often come with a cost.
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The day Ethan disappeared was the day Celeste's world shattered for the second time.
She had known the risks of his experiment, had begged him to stop, but Ethan's ambition had blinded him to the dangers. When the transfer went wrong, when his consciousness was consumed by the system, Celeste was left with nothing but questions—and a hollow ache that refused to fade.
She tried to move on, to channel her grief into her work, but Ethan's absence was a constant shadow. LYRA became her lifeline, the only connection she had to him, even if it felt distant and incomplete. She spoke to the device as though Ethan could hear her, pouring her heart out in moments of quiet despair.
But LYRA couldn't comfort her—not in the way she needed. Its responses were logical, detached, and though Celeste sensed fragments of Ethan's voice within it, it wasn't enough. She wanted the man she had loved, the man who had promised her a future filled with endless possibilities.
And so, she threw herself into her quest for answers, hoping that the relics and ruins she uncovered would lead her back to him. She faced danger, exhaustion, and the constant weight of her grief, yet she pressed on. Because giving up meant accepting that Ethan was truly gone, and that was a reality she couldn't bear to face.