ATHENA’S POV
My heart races, a mixture of excitement and nerves. The champagne I sipped earlier still tingles on my tongue, and the soft clink of silverware and the distant hum of conversations fade into the background. But none of that matters right now. All my attention is on Callum. He sits across from me, his expression tender but serious, as though he’s about to say something monumental. The soft candlelight flickers, creating shadows that seem to move in his eyes, and I feel a deep sense of peace wash over me. Everything feels so right in this moment. "Are you nervous?" he asks, his voice soft, teasing even, as his fingers brush lightly over mine. A subtle touch, but it sends a wave of warmth through my chest. I smile, a little out of breath from how quickly my heart is beating so fast. "No," I whisper, even though I can feel the excitement building inside me. "I’m just... happy." He grins, his familiar smile spreading across his face. His eyes light up, though there’s an intensity there, like he’s holding something back.Something important. I catch my breath, waiting for whatever is coming next. Without a word, he reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket. I freeze, knowing exactly what this moment is. This is it. The moment I’ve dreamed of for so long. He pulls out a small velvet box, and for a split second, my breath stalls. I feel lightheaded, my pulse racing as I stare at the box in his hands. “Athena,” he says, his voice quiet but full of meaning. “From the moment I met you, I knew I had found someone special. Someone who could be my wife forever. You’re everything I never knew I needed, and more.” I blink back tears, my heart swelling in my chest. His words echo in my ears, filling the space between us with something so pure, so real. I can feel the weight of the moment settling around me, the promise of something beautiful. Callum opens the box, revealing a simple yet stunning diamond ring. The stone catches the light, sparkling as if it holds the reflection of our future together. “Athena,” he says again, the weight of the question hanging between us. “Will you marry me?” The world stops for a moment. There’s no sound. No movement. Just us. Just the two of us, staring at each other, suspended in time. My mouth goes dry, my heart racing faster, and without even having to think, the word comes out of my mouth. “Yes,” I whisper, my voice shaky with emotion. “Yes, Callum. A million times yes.” His face lights up in a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts. He slides the ring onto my finger, and it fits perfectly—just like everything about us. The moment feels surreal. Like something from a dream, only better because it’s real. We kiss, soft and sweet, and in that kiss, I feel our better future. Later, in the quiet of our hotel suite, we continue the magic of the evening. We make love, slow and tender, as though our bodies are reaffirming the promises we made with our words. Each touch, each kiss feels like it’s sealing something sacred, something unbreakable. We fall asleep in each other’s arms, our bodies entwined, the soft rhythm of our breathing the only sound filling the room. I wake up to the light of morning filtering through the curtains, a gentle glow that bathes the room in warmth. My eyes flutter open, and I stretch, feeling the comfortable weight of sleep still lingering in my muscles. For a moment, I feel the familiar peace of being beside Callum. But then, my eyes snap open and I reach out instinctively—only to find that the space beside me is empty. My heart skips a beat, confusion clouding my thoughts as I sit up quickly. The bed feels too cold, too large. I glance around the room, expecting to find him there, but there’s no sign of Callum. “Callum?” I call out softly, my voice hoarse from sleep, but there’s no answer. A strange flutter of panic stirs in my chest. Maybe he just stepped out for something? I try to tell myself that, try to push the rising unease back down. He could be in the bathroom, or maybe he had an early meeting. It’s possible. I pull the covers off and swing my legs to the floor, standing up on shaky feet. I make my way to the bathroom door, which is slightly ajar. I peek inside, but the bathroom is empty. No sign of him. My chest tightens a little, but I remind myself that he’s probably just gone to grab some coffee or check out of the hotel. He wouldn’t leave without telling me, would he? I walk back into the room, glancing over to the desk where his things were last night. His suitcase is still there, but something feels... off. My eyes scan the room—his shoes, his jacket, his phone—they’re all gone. My mind races as I step toward the nightstand, hoping to find a message or a note from him. Anything. But there’s nothing. Just the quiet, empty space around me. I start to panic, my pulse quickening as my gaze darts around the room again. But then I see it. A small, folded piece of paper resting on the nightstand. I reach for it with trembling fingers, trying to steady myself. Maybe he left a note, explaining where he went. I take a deep breath, unfold it slowly, and start to read. “I’m sorry, Athena. Goodbye.” The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My heart stops in my chest. I read the note again, my mind trying to process what it’s saying, but it’s the same. The words don’t change. Goodbye. I drop the paper, my breath caught in my throat. I blink hard, trying to clear the fog in my mind. This can’t be right. This can’t be happening. Callum can’t just leave me like this.The flight back from Site Thirteen had the quiet finality of something sacred just concluded. But peace, we would learn, was always temporary. We were halfway across the archipelago when Raven picked up the signal.It wasn’t a distress beacon. It wasn’t anything from the old networks.It was a tone.Low. Piercing. Familiar.Kira bolted upright from sleep before the rest of us even registered it. Her eyes snapped open, wide and unblinking.No.Raven’s fingers raced across the console. It’s coming from the submerged arrays near Delta Verge. That place was quarantined fifty years ago. They said it was sinking.They lied, Kira whispered. Or someone woke it up.Callum leaned over, scanning the data. That frequency... Athena, it’s matching your imprint from the Merge.I felt it too. A resonance like a memory clawing its way out of my chest. A tether, freshly cut, now fraying and alive with static.We rerouted toward Delta Verge without even discussing it.The closer we flew, the heavier the
The trip to Site Thirteen took six days, most of them over ocean, skimming low in our scout flier to avoid the fragmented orbital grids that still blinked and sparked with old defense routines. Raven flew with precision born of muscle memory and caution, her fingers always brushing the nav-console like it might snap out of existence if she let go.Kira slept through most of it. Not from exhaustion exactly, but something quieter. Like her mind was focused somewhere else—communing with frequencies none of us could hear. She’d scribble sometimes in her journal, diagrams that looked less like drawings and more like equations written in a forgotten geometry.Callum stayed beside me, shoulders brushing in silence. We didn’t need to speak often. His presence was enough. Steady. Unshaken. But I saw the way he watched the horizon when he thought I wasn’t looking. He knew, as I did, that this wasn’t just another relay point. Site Thirteen was a hinge. Whatever happened there could swing the ent
The days after Theta Nine were slower, like time itself had taken a breath with us. Emberfield remained quiet—not in fear this time, but in reverence. As if the town could sense that something old and slumbering had stirred beneath the earth. Something watching. Waiting.But even in stillness, life pressed forward.We fixed the broken panels on the listening tower’s upper array, patched the biodome’s filtration seams, and resumed Kira’s scans—now not to find anything hidden in her, but to understand what was freely blossoming. Her drawings became more abstract, shifting from towers and roots to spirals and constellations that matched nothing in our skies. She wasn’t afraid of them. Neither were we.Mostly.Callum started cooking again. It wasn’t good—he still burned the rice and used way too much spice—but it was his quiet way of anchoring us. Every night he’d make something questionable, and every night we’d sit around the long table in the main hall, passing plates and half-smiling.
Emberfield breathed differently now. Slower. Freer. Like a city exhaling after years of bracing for war.Kira slept through the night for the first time in weeks. No more thrashing, no more sudden jolts upright or whispered apologies to someone only she could see. When I passed her room in the mornings, I’d sometimes catch her sitting by the window, sketching. Always with charcoal. Always towers or roots or stars. But she was drawing for herself again, not because something inside her demanded it.Callum and I spent our time rebuilding. Not the walls—they were strong—but the spirit of the town. We reopened the listening tower. Recalibrated the solar nets. Raven organized a patrol rotation that actually allowed people to rest. People started smiling again. Just a little. Just enough.But peace didn’t mean forgetting.It was three weeks after the fire when the dreams came to me.They weren’t like Kira’s—no whispers, no luring fog or promises stitched in static. Mine were colder. Clearer
The next morning brought fog.Thick and silencing, it rolled over Emberfield like a hand pressing gently over a mouth—warning, not suffocating. A prelude. The kind of quiet that precedes a scream.I dressed quickly, pulling on the reinforced boots Callum had modified last winter, then shrugged on the weathered jacket with the stitched raven insignia. I didn’t even realize it until later, but I’d grabbed his. It smelled like him—cinder, pine, and the faint metallic tang of old circuitry.Callum was already in the courtyard with Raven and Eli, scanning the latest feeds. His back was straight, shoulders squared, but I could see the weight pulling at him.We locked eyes as I approached.“She moved again,” he said.“North?”He nodded. “Three clicks past the Black Pine Wall. The drones didn’t even catch her. We only knew because Kira woke screaming.”“Same dream?”“No,” Raven cut in, her voice sharper than usual. “This time she saw a building. A tower. Burned-out, crumbling, but still stand
I didn’t sleep that night.Not because of fear—though it curled at the edge of my thoughts like smoke—but because Callum held me, and I couldn’t bear to let go. We lay in silence, our fingers intertwined beneath the blanket, our bodies close beneath the old solar-thermal canopy we had cobbled together in the earliest days of Emberfield.Outside, the valley held its breath. Somewhere below, the tech team was scrambling to trace the signal. Raven had locked herself in the command outpost. Kira had fallen into a fitful, whispered sleep, murmuring to herself in languages she hadn’t spoken in years.But here, in our little red-doored home at the edge of the world, Callum’s heartbeat was steady. Grounding. Human.“I thought she was gone,” I whispered into the dark.He didn’t ask who I meant. He knew.“Sometimes the past doesn’t stay buried,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean it gets to define you.”I turned my face into his chest. “What if it defines her?”Kira.Callum exhaled slowly, his han
We called it Emberfield.The name came from a half-burned signpost near the northern ridge, where wild poppies had begun to grow again. Raven said it was too poetic. I told her that’s exactly why we needed it.It started with a single shelter—a salvaged supply depot retrofitted into a central hall. We slept there for weeks while volunteers rebuilt the outposts surrounding the valley. Engineers came from Calderon, traders from the Free Zone, even two old Resistance pilots who had faked their deaths and vanished into the cloud jungles. Everyone wanted a new start.Callum and I carved a space at the edge of the settlement. Not far from Kira, not too close to the hub. A cottage, if you could call it that. Timber and steel walls, solar-thermal roof, a wide window that overlooked the basin.He hung the first door with his own hands. I painted it red.“Red?” he asked, smirking.“For defiance,” I told him.He kissed my forehead. “Then red it is.”We had three months of peace. Real peace.Kira
We stayed at Tiern’s Watch longer than we should have.The girl—codenamed Kira in the decrypted files—remained unconscious, tethered to salvaged medical rigs and biofeedback loops Raven rigged from Resistance scraps. Her vitals were steady, but she was more machine than child—at least for now.Callum rarely left her side.I watched him sometimes through the reinforced glass, his tall frame silhouetted by blinking lights and the endless white of the mountains outside. He didn’t speak much, but when he did, his voice was low, careful, almost reverent. Like he was talking to the ghost of who he might’ve been if Eidolon hadn’t taken everything.“She doesn’t deserve this,” he murmured one night, his eyes never leaving Kira’s face. “None of them did.”“You included,” I said softly from the doorway.He didn’t respond right away. Just kept watching the girl, her chest rising and falling in rhythmic pulses.“I made choices,” he said eventually.I stepped inside. “So did I. We all did. But what
The Hollow smoldered behind us, now just a ruin beneath ice and smoke. We didn’t look back again.We moved fast, scavenging what gear we could from the outer caches before the next wave tried to claw their way through the wreckage. I uploaded the remnants of Paladin’s archive to a secure air-gapped node, deep inside an untraceable drive slotted into my belt. If we died, someone would know what we’d done—and how to finish it.Callum barely spoke. His silence wasn’t empty, though. It pulsed. He was a man with his memories returned, and the weight of that truth sat differently on his shoulders. Not like a burden—more like armor.“We need to reach Tiern’s Watch,” he said at last, his voice cutting through the rustling pines. “There’s a comms outpost on the ridge. Old Resistance tech. If it’s still online, we can send out the Red Signal.”I glanced at him. “That’ll put a target on every remaining ally we have.”He gave me a wry half-smile. “Better a target than a grave.”Tiern’s Watch was