San Azura’s harbor slept beneath a sheet of fog, its lights trembling across the water like pulsebeats under glass. The night air smelled of salt and quiet engines.

Mira adjusted the strap of her pack as the ETOLV transport idled on the launch platform—rotors folded, hull glimmering in muted teal. Their tickets flickered as holographic tags along her wristband: Destination — Lueur Ridge.

Beside her, Hale returned from the vendor row carrying two paper cups crowned with melting scoops.

“Don’t say I never find civilization,” he teased.

“Strawberry synth-cream. Actual dairy’s still outlawed this side of the coast.”

She accepted one with a faint smile. The cold sweetness startled her—an ordinary pleasure rediscovered after years of ration bars and desalinated coffee.

While Hale turned to pay the vendor, Mira’s attention drifted down the platform.

Something white moved at the far end, where the fog thickened. A Great Pyrenees, broad and luminous under the lamplight, padded silently toward her. Its eyes glowed faint blue, and a small interface node glimmered just behind one ear—an auditory shard implant, pulsing softly with each sound.

The dog stopped a few meters away, head tilted, waiting.

Mira crouched, setting her cup aside. “Hey there, traveler.”

A faint chirp answered from the implant—tones translating environmental noise into subtle vibrations. The tag on its collar read Victory.

She reached out, letting the dog decide. It stepped closer, pressing its muzzle into her palm. The fur was warm, grounding. Through the shard interface she caught a whisper of its perception: the echo of waves, Hale’s distant laughter, the low harmonic hum of the ETOLV turbines. A world translated into rhythm and touch.

“Someone gave you your hearing back,” she murmured. “That’s… beautiful.”

Victory wagged its tail once, then lifted its head toward the sky—listening not for sound, but for resonance.

From the kiosk Hale called, “Mira! Boarding in two!”

When she glanced back, the fog was already swallowing the platform’s edge. The dog was gone—no pawprints, only ripples where condensation had pooled.

She stood, heartbeat steady but changed. “Coming,” she called, collecting her pack.

They climbed the ramp together. The turbines unfolded like silver petals, scattering mist into spirals of light.

Inside the cabin, Hale offered her the second cup with mock solemnity.

“Chocolate mint. Thought it suited you.”

She accepted it, watching droplets chase across the window as the craft lifted into the night. Far below, the harbor lights blurred into constellations mirrored in water.

Mira’s thoughts lingered on the dog—on its patient gaze, its augmented gift.

Not everything broken stays silent, she realized. Some things learn to listen differently.

The ETOLV banked north toward the dark spine of the continent. San Azura fell away behind them, but its echoes traveled with her—

soft, alive, and still listening.