Day two. Same choking dark. Same winds carving the rock open. The team regrouped at the fallback point, no talk, just orders. Then they split—each into a different risk.

Rynn crouched beside a crate of explosives, her nimble fingers securing the last of the charges into a compact backpack. “Supply depots and caravans,” she muttered to Veyra, who stood nearby with her rifle slung over one shoulder. “Glamorous work, as always.”

Veyra didn’t glance up from her scope, her tone flat. “It’s fun when it works.”

“Fun for you maybe,” Rynn replied, zipping the pack and slinging it over her shoulder. “You get to shoot things. I have to make sure we survive the blast radius.”

Veyra raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply, signaling for them to move out.

Farther up the ridge, Sarin adjusted his scope, the faint glow of his targeting reticle casting a pale light across his face. Elara lay prone beside him, her focus divided between the terrain and their comms.

“You know,” Sarin said as he tracked an insurgent patrol moving near one of the depots, “Without you, I’d die of boredom out here.”

Elara rolled her eyes but kept her tone light. “Charming. Shouldn’t you be focusing on the targets instead of stroking your own ego?”

“I am focusing,” Sarin replied, his voice softening as his finger hovered over the trigger. A moment later, the reticle aligned with a sentry standing too close to one of the depot entrances. A sharp crack split the air as the shot landed clean, the sentry collapsing without a sound. Sarin smirked. “See? Multitasking.”

Elara glanced at him, unimpressed. “Still haven’t answered my question from earlier.”

“Which one?”

“Who gets Ravik in bed first,” Elara replied, her eyes scanning the horizon for movement.

Sarin chuckled softly, his silver eyes gleaming as he chambered another round. “Oh, it’s me. Obviously. You can patch him up all you want, but when it comes down to it? Charm is undefeated.”

“Sounds like survivor bias,” Elara quipped, keeping her voice low.

“Oh, I can do more than survive Ravik,” Sarin murmured, his grin widening.

A crack of his rifle silenced their banter as another sentry fell, the depot ahead now vulnerable. Elara gave him a faint smirk, shaking her head. “Careful, Sarin. You might actually be tolerable when you’re quiet.”

Across the canyon, Ravik followed Kael toward the comms hub, their path winding through uneven rock formations. The antennae buzzed through the wind—low, steady, unmistakable.

Kael raised a hand, signaling for them to stop as he scanned the area. “They’ve got lookouts. Two on the ridge, one below. Fast and clean—or we’re blown.”

Ravik nodded.

“I’ll handle the ridge. You take the one at the base.”

Ravik didn’t answer.

Kael turned to face Ravik. When he finally spoke, his tone was calm but firm. “No hesitation. You can do this, Ravik. I’m counting on you.”

Ravik stiffened. Kael’s command left no space for doubt.

“Yes, Sir,” Ravik confirmed. When the moment came, Kael’s hand signaled sharply, and they moved in unison.

Ravik slipped between the tower’s support beams. The guard’s back was to him—breathing slow, relaxed, unaware.

One step. The blade cleared the sheath. Another step.

Ravik caught the man’s collar. The blade slid in—fast, clean, under the ribs. No cry. Just a grunt, sharp and real.

The body sagged. Dust and breath rose together as it hit the ground.

He didn’t move for half a second. Above, Kael’s shots rang out in quick succession. The guards on the ridge fell before they could react.

With the area secure, Ravik moved to the terminal, his fingers working quickly to bypass the encryption. Kael stood behind him, rifle raised as he scanned the horizon for movement.

“Not bad,” Kael said as the screen blinked to life—enemy comms dissolving into static. “Looks like you’re earning your keep.”

Ravik didn’t look up. “Something like that.”

Kael scanned the dark. “Let’s move. We’re not out yet.”

The wind on Kaevus-4 never stopped, only thinned—dry and distant as they secured a hollow in the rock. The faint glow of Ravik’s visor dimmed as he powered it down, kneeling to inspect the rough terrain for any potential threats.

Kael scanned the horizon, then turned. “We’re clear. Rest here. I’ll take first watch.”

Ravik dropped to his corner of the alcove. He busied himself with routine tasks, but his hands moved just slightly too fast. The blade cloth snagged in his grip.

Kael noticed. He didn’t comment immediately, choosing instead to remove his own pack and settle against the rock wall. He tracked every shift in Ravik’s posture, every sharp movement of his hands.

“You’re shaking.”

Ravik froze, his jaw tightening. He didn’t look up, continuing to clean the blade with methodical precision. “I’m fine.”

Kael shifted, his boots scraping faintly against the stone as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice softened, his usual edge replaced with something more measured. “You’re not fine, Ravik. And you don’t have to pretend with me.”

Ravik’s fingers faltered, the cloth slipping slightly against the blade’s edge. He stilled, exhaling sharply through his nose as he stared at the weapon in his hands. “I handled it,” he said, his tone clipped. “That’s all that matters.”

Kael tilted his head, studying him for a long moment. Then he rose, stepping closer. He crouched slowly, his posture shedding command for something quieter—almost protective.

“You reacted quickly. You made the right call. But that doesn’t mean it was easy.”

Ravik’s eyes flicked up, meeting Kael’s for the first time. Kael’s gaze hit harder than expected. Ravik’s words caught in his throat, pressure cinching tight in his chest.

“I didn’t think,” Ravik admitted finally, his voice low, almost a whisper. “It just... happened. One second, he was there, and then...” He trailed off, his violet eyes dropping back to the blade in his hands.

Kael’s brow furrowed, and he shifted slightly closer, his knee brushing the edge of Ravik’s boot. “And then it was over,” Kael finished for him, his tone gentle but firm. “Quick, brutal, and final. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t stay.”

Ravik’s grip on the blade tightened, his knuckles whitening. “Simulations don’t bleed. This did.”

Kael’s expression softened, and he reached out, placing a steady hand on Ravik’s shoulder. “You don’t have to carry it alone.”

Ravik shook his head, his voice bitter. “I shouldn’t feel like this. I’m supposed to be better than this.”

“I get it… we’re Yawr,” Kael countered, his grip on Ravik’s shoulder tightening slightly. “Paragon of strength and all that. But feeling this way doesn’t make you weak. It makes you alive. And that’s the only thing that matters out here.”

Ravik felt his guard break—quiet, unwanted, real. He exhaled shakily, his hands loosening around the blade as he looked up, meeting Kael’s gaze again.

“I didn’t want to kill him,” Ravik confessed. “But I didn’t want to fail, either.”

Kael nodded, his tone steady. “No one does. Not really. But out here, it’s them or us. And you made the call to keep yourself—and this team—alive. That’s what counts.”

For a moment, silence hung between them, the faint howl of the wind filling the space. Kael’s hand lingered on Ravik’s shoulder, a quiet anchor in the storm of his thoughts.

Ravik closed his eyes briefly, exhaling slowly as he allowed himself to let go of some of the weight he’d been carrying. “Thanks,” he murmured, his voice soft but sincere.

Kael didn’t move. His hand stayed steady on Ravik’s shoulder. “Anytime.”

Ravik opened his eyes, his gaze meeting Kael’s once more. There was something unspoken between them, an understanding that didn’t need words. Kael’s proximity, his steady presence, felt different—comforting in a way Ravik hadn’t expected.

The moment stretched, and Kael finally pulled back, his demeanor shifting slightly as he rose to his feet. “Get some rest,” he said, his voice returning to its usual command. “I’ll keep watch.”

Ravik nodded, watching as Kael moved toward the edge of the alcove, his silhouette sharp against the dark horizon. The wind still howled, but something inside him started to still.