Ch.9

The morning sun fought its way through the gray haze of the city, casting pale streaks of light across Celeste's studio. The relics still lay where she had left them, an untouched reminder of the chaotic night before. Exhaustion hung heavy over her body, her limbs weighed down by the lingering ache of grief. She hadn't slept. The tears had stopped, but the numbness that followed was just as suffocating.

Her fingers toyed absently with one of the relic fragments on the floor—a circular piece with faint etchings that glowed faintly under her touch. Somewhere in the hum of her thoughts, LYRA's soft voice echoed, offering routine suggestions or observations she barely registered. The events of the past few days blurred together into a fog she couldn't escape.

And then, like a sudden burst of sunlight breaking through a storm, her door flung open.

"Celeste Adler!" came a sharp, familiar voice, dripping with playful exasperation. "I swear, if I don't find you alive and breathing in the next five seconds—oh, there you are. Sulking on the floor again, I see."

Celeste blinked, her bleary eyes focusing on the figure standing in her doorway. It was Alina Cruz—her oldest friend, her partner-in-crime during their university days, and the one person who seemed immune to the gravitational pull of Celeste's melancholy.

Alina swept into the room like a whirlwind, her short black hair bouncing with each step. She carried an oversized canvas bag that jingled ominously, its contents a mystery but undoubtedly chaotic. Her sharp green eyes scanned the studio, taking in the scattered relics, the crumpled papers, and the woman sitting among them like the ruins of a long-forgotten civilization.

"Wow," Alina said, dropping the bag onto the nearest chair with a dramatic thud. "This place looks like a crypt. Are you planning on making it your tomb, or are you finally going to let me drag you out of here?"

Celeste groaned, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not in the mood, Alina."

"Not in the mood?" Alina repeated, hands on her hips. "Sweetheart, you haven't been in the mood for anything since—" She stopped herself, biting her lip. Her usual bravado faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of genuine concern. "Since everything."

Celeste turned her gaze back to the relic in her hands, tracing the patterns with her thumb. "I don't need a lecture," she muttered.

"Good, because I didn't come here to lecture you," Alina said, crouching down beside her. "I came to remind you that you're not alone. And also because I'm pretty sure you haven't eaten anything besides stale coffee and despair in the past forty-eight hours."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Celeste's lips despite herself. Alina always had a way of cutting through the darkness with her brash, unrelenting humor. "You're exaggerating."

"Oh, am I?" Alina shot back, arching an eyebrow. "Tell me when the last time was that you left this cave of yours. Or, better yet, when you last had a conversation with someone who doesn't run on circuits and data processing."

Celeste flinched slightly, her eyes darting toward LYRA. She wasn't ready to talk about the strange connection she felt with the AI—about the moments when it felt almost too familiar, too human. Alina followed her gaze, her expression softening.

"I'm sorry," Alina said, her voice quieter now. "I didn't mean to push. I just… I'm worried about you, Cel."

"I know," Celeste said, her voice barely audible. "I just… I don't know how to move forward anymore. It feels like every step I take is a dead end."

Alina nodded, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her. "You don't have to figure it all out right now. One step at a time, okay? And the first step—" She reached into her bag, producing a thermos and a wrapped sandwich. "—is eating something that isn't existential dread."

Celeste chuckled softly, the sound surprising even herself. "You're impossible."

"Damn right I am," Alina said with a grin. She handed the sandwich to Celeste, watching with satisfaction as her friend reluctantly unwrapped it. "See? Not so hard."

For a while, they sat in companionable silence, the tension in the room easing slightly. Alina glanced at the relics scattered around them, her curiosity piqued. "So, what's all this?" she asked, gesturing toward the fragments. "More ancient tech to save the world, or just another excuse to work yourself into the ground?"

Celeste hesitated, her fingers tightening around the relic in her hands. "It's… complicated."

"When isn't it?" Alina said with a smirk. "Come on, spill. You know I'm not going anywhere until you do."

Celeste sighed, her gaze fixed on the glowing etchings. "It's about Ethan," she admitted finally. "These relics—they're part of something bigger. Something that might lead me to answers. To him."

Alina's smile faded, replaced by a look of quiet understanding. She reached out, placing a hand on Celeste's shoulder. "Cel… you know I love you, right?"

Celeste nodded, her throat tightening.

"And because I love you," Alina continued, "I have to say this: you can't keep doing this to yourself. You're chasing ghosts. I get it—I do. But you're still here, and you deserve to live, too."

Tears welled in Celeste's eyes, but she didn't look away. "I don't know how to stop," she admitted, her voice trembling. "I don't know how to let go."

Alina pulled her into a tight hug, her voice firm but gentle. "Then let me be here with you, okay? You don't have to figure it out alone. We'll take it one step at a time. Together."

Celeste clung to her, the weight on her chest easing just slightly. For the first time in days, she felt a flicker of something she hadn't dared to name: hope.