38. War's Edge, Heart's Horizon

Back in their room, a quiet hum filled the air—low, unstable, and resonating with the faint red glow of their exoskeletons. Mira sat near the window, her gaze fixed on the distant flashes of light, while Caleb checked the calibration on their system readouts. Both of their exoskeletons pulsed with a crimson shimmer where the crystals lay embedded. The incomplete energy transfer had damaged their ports, leaving a chaotic mix of each other's energy running rampant within.

They had waited for this moment ever since Mira confided in Caleb about her fragmented flashes and visions—fragments from another world, from another life. Their synchronized heartbeats were the trigger. The bond they formed, organic and inevitable, had become a catalyst. Every word, every moment spent together, accelerated the degradation of their systems.

They were programmed to be each other's poison.

Their connection—so natural, so human—was destructive by design. The closer they became, the more their minds threatened to unravel. But even knowing this, they had made their choice. Together, they would board the spacecraft destined for the furthest edges of deepspace before the mechanism overtook them entirely.

Outside, the Central District was a wasteland of smoldering steel and collapsed towers. The war between the rebels and the government had reached a dangerous stalemate, but Lingshir—once considered distant and quiet—was no exception.

Now, even here, the flames of war crawled like fire ants across the edges of the city.

Beyond their window, Mira watched the flicker of red flare against the skyline. Distant explosions rattled the glass. They were getting closer.

A sharp knock interrupted the silence.

"It's me, Helen," came the voice through the door.

Caleb opened it quickly. Helen stepped inside with her grandson, Kolo, both of them winded and dust-covered from their trek. Her usually composed demeanor was marred by tension.

"The rebels have made it this far," she said, voice low and urgent. "They're right at the city's edge already—it's sooner than I expected."

She took a breath, then added, "We're boarding a large evacuation ship. You two should come with us. It'll be safer if we stick together."

Mira and Caleb exchanged a glance. There was no hesitation in their eyes, just understanding. Mira spoke with quiet confidence. "Thank you, but our fuel is ready. We'll be leaving shortly."

Helen frowned. "But your spacecraft is a private unit—it's never traveled that far. What if—"

Kolo stepped forward, his expression uncertain. "Do you really have to go? Where are you going?"

Caleb looked down at the boy, voice gentle. "We're going to a place where the seasons change. We'll see life grow, a summer sunrise… and real moonlight."

Kolo blinked. "Does this world have such a place?"

Caleb gave a small smile, then turned to Mira. "If this world doesn't have it, we'll find one that does."

Helen sighed and stepped forward, pressing a small, silver metal box into Caleb's hands. "Take this. It's the best warp drive I could get my hands on. And this," she held out a sleek, black communication key, "connects to our ship's system. So long as you're within range, we can send a rescue shuttle."

Kolo followed up, placing a miniature deepspace communicator in Mira's palm, along with two paper rings carefully folded.

Mira looked down at the rings, then at the boy, her eyes soft. "Thank you."

Kolo's voice cracked slightly. "You need to go to that world you're looking for."

Helen nodded, tears in her eyes. "Take care, children."

They walked together—Helen, Kolo, Caleb, and Mira—just far enough to reach the perimeter. From there, the evacuation ship loomed, large and glowing, its engines already rumbling with power. Caleb and Mira stood hand in hand as the ship lifted off, the wind pushing against their faces. They watched it vanish into the starlit sky.

And as the stars blinked quietly above, they turned back toward their own vessel—toward the unknown.