The outer gates of Last Hope groaned as they opened, hydraulics sighing beneath layers of reinforced plating. For a moment, Fade stood in the threshold—one foot in the safety of the city, the other poised to enter a world that no longer belonged to anyone.
He didn't look back.
Behind him, the dome shimmered faintly under the morning cycle's artificial sun. Inside: familiarity, safety, voices. Outside: the wild hush of unclaimed land.
He stepped forward.
The moment his boots hit the cracked earth, something shifted—not outside, but within. The world out here didn't hum with system protocols. No mission trackers. No threat indicators. No boundaries telling him what not to be.
The silence was purer.
A dry wind blew past the shallow hills, carrying dust and the scent of rusted metal. He moved in steady strides, eyes alert, senses half-awake, his mind playing over the message from Aeron.