A claiming that needs no fight, no fear.
Only faith.
Faith in us.
When we finally break apart, the night feels a little less heavy.
The shadows a little less sharp.
Tomorrow’s still coming fast and brutal.
But tonight, we’ve made our peace.
Said goodbye to the ghosts.
Made room for something new.
Something worth fighting for.
I lean my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of him.
I let myself hope.
Really hope.
Because we aren't just surviving anymore.
We're living.
Together.
And nothing—not Petru, not fear, not the whole broken galaxy—is gonna tear that away from us again.
Later, when the city's noise dies down to a low, distant hum, we creep outside onto the crumbling balcony.
The night air is cool against my skin, crisp and clean in a way that feels rare down here.
The stars stretch wide above us.
Bright.
Endless.
A reminder that there’s still more out there than just fear and blood and running.
I cradle Aria against my chest.
Traz’s arm curls around Joren, the boy snuggled deep against his side, breathing slow and even.
We sit together on the battered bench, the kids dozing heavy and warm against us.
I glance at Traz.
He’s staring at the stars like he’s memorizing them.
Like he’s making a map in his heart for all the places we still have to go.
Without a word, he reaches over and threads his fingers through mine.
