Starfreight, Memorylight
The light bent differently this far out.
Not with color. With memory.
Kye opened his eyes to the rhythm of ship alarms—soft, hollow pulses echoing through metal bones. Gravity stuttered. Air held the quiet tension of something barely holding.
He was no longer on Veltrin. No longer anywhere he recognized.
And yet, the flame still pulsed inside his chest.
Dimmer now. Not gold.
Violet.
His name wasn't spoken here. Not by the ship. Not by the stars. Not yet.
He lay strapped to a recliner that hadn't been used in centuries—polymer faded, seals brittle. The cabin was skeletal: exposed panels, shattered diagnostic glass, a low-pressure hum from an engine one misfire away from death.
A voice crackled overhead.
> "Freighter Rook-Spar, stasis break complete. Wake protocols half-failed. No pilot signatures. You are alone."
Kye sat up slowly.
His ribs ached.
His limbs worked.
The Chronicle was gone.
But something in his wrist still shimmered. Not a flame. Not a traceband.
A resonance—a single, steady pulse of carried memory.
He looked out the viewport.
Starlanes.
Fractured lanes of half-broken traffic routes. The Interstitia. Graveyard of old logistics networks and ghosted systems. The place where broken freighters drifted until forgotten.
And yet, this one had held him.
He stood, barefoot, wobbling slightly. The ship groaned.
He reached the console.
> SYSTEM STATUS: 3% REMAINING
COURSE: ABANDONED
LAST ENTRY: "Cael-Signature Passenger Logged. Core Transfer Incomplete."
Kye touched the console.
It flickered.
And memorylight poured from it—blue threads that didn't burn, but wove shapes around him.
A child's hand. A woman's voice. A vow made aboard a ship that no one remembered naming.
The ship spoke again:
> "You are carrying a Vaultseed."
His breath caught.
He looked at his chest.
The mark—new, raw, spiraled—glowed.
He had not left the Chronicle behind.
It had replanted itself.
Kye sat down before the helm.
The stars ahead were broken.
But behind them, something still wanted to be built.
> "Course suggestion?"
He looked up.
Smiled.
"Somewhere that's forgotten. Let's see if memory can grow there."