The datapad felt lighter than it should have.

I stood at the balcony’s edge, the courtyard far below swallowed in gray. Wind scraped leaves across stone. The sound repeated endlessly, like time itself refusing to move.

“Confirmed sighting,” the scout said behind me. “Planet Vitarus.”

Alive.

I said nothing.

My thumb slid across the datapad’s surface. A list of potential locations blinked back at me—old surveillance flags, forgotten routes, buried contingencies.

I deleted them all.

One by one.

No hesitation.

The scout watched, confused but silent.

“Prepare the Commanders,” I said at last. “Assume hostile contact.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He fled.

Behind me, my grandfather exhaled slowly. Relief. Reassurance.

“If he reaches us,” I added calmly, “I will deal with him myself.”

The old man nodded.

Satisfied.

I stared back out at the courtyard, fingers curling against the railing.

Mi’kael was alive.

And for the first time in years, the waiting hurt less than the knowing.

MI'KAEL SERAPHANE

The village was quieter when I returned.

Rain clung to the rooftops. Smoke drifted thinly from chimneys. Life continued, indifferent.

The woman who warned me of the assailants walked into a house.

I went towards it.

She opened the door when I knocked.

Her eyes widened. “You’re alive.”

I nodded.

She let me in, hands trembling. The room smelled faintly of fruit and old wood. I recognized it. She used to bring him things. Always did.

“What was your relationship with Ravyn?” I asked.

She hesitated.

“I— I cared for him.”

“So you loved him.”

Her face flushed, then drained of color.

“He’s gone,” I said. “He died protecting this village.”

The words broke her.

She sank into a chair, sobbing. Blaming herself. Saying if she’d come sooner—

I almost turned away.

Then I remembered Ravyn’s voice. His patience. The way he stayed when I couldn’t.

So I forced my face into something gentler.

“He waited for you,” I said quietly. “He smiled every time you came.”

It wasn’t kindness.
It was discipline.

“I buried him beneath the old tree,” I continued. “The one he always sat under.”

She nodded through tears.

When I left, I didn’t look back.

I turned to my left, my gaze landing on a cargo bus being loaded with supplies. 

The vehicle was already idling, repulsors humming softly against the mud. The driver didn’t notice me at first, too focused on the preparations. I took a few slow steps toward him, my boots sinking slightly in the mud.

I cleared my throat and showed the driver the datapad.

“That route,” I said. “You stopping there?”

He studied me, then nodded. “I'm gonna drop some supplies there,” his voice gruff. “Climb aboard if you’re going.”

The door hissed shut behind me.

As the bus pulled away, the village faded into mist. Five years, gone in a blink.

I let the datapad slip from my fingers, my grip loosening as my head tipped back against the seat's side. There was no need to stay alert. I could handle whatever waited ahead. 

I had my blade, my strength, and a mission. That was enough— for now.

I closed my eyes, the steady motion of the bus and sound of rain outside offering a strange comfort. I let myself drift off to sleep.

Not to rest.

To prepare.