Cooper was gone.

  Varen whispered the words like a prayer, like a curse, like if he said them enough times, they’d stop feeling real. But they didn’t. The warmth had already left Cooper’s fingers.

  Varen clenched his jaw. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. Cooper was supposed to make it back. He was supposed to keep his promise.

  But reality doesn’t care what we want.

  4 minutes until detonation.

  The bunker trembled. The alarms screamed. The countdown marched forward.

  A hand yanked his arm—hard.

  "Varen, MOVE!"

  Telo’s voice barely registered. Varen’s legs obeyed, but his mind stayed behind. He felt weightless—like he wasn’t really running, just being pulled forward by something beyond him.

  The halls blurred. The alarms faded.

  Cooper was gone.

  A breath hitched in his throat.

  Not now.

  His chest tightened, his pulse hammering in his ears.

  Not now. Not yet.

  The walls groaned, metal twisting under the coming explosion.

  Telo’s grip tightened. “Stay with me, kid.”

  Varen forced down the grief, shoving it deep where it couldn’t reach him. There was no time.

  Later.

  If there was a later.

  The bunker was collapsing around them—the earlier peace was gone.

  Telo yanked Varen forward, dragging him through the smoke-filled corridors. The alarms wailed in his ears, but everything felt distant—muted under the weight of his guilt.

  His legs moved, but he wasn’t in control. His body obeyed, but his mind was still back there, still with Cooper.

  2 minutes until detonation.

  A deep groan echoed through the halls as the structure began to creak under its own weight. The ceiling cracked, dust and debris raining down.

  A gas pipe ruptured behind them, spewing fire into the corridor, sealing the path shut.

  "Exit’s ahead!"

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  They forced their way through the half-jammed blast doors, spilling into the cold night air.

  The bunker trembled beneath their feet. The grinding of metal and rupturing supports screamed behind them.

  Telo didn’t stop. He dragged Varen further from the collapsing structure—the former glory gone.

  Varen barely felt the wind against his face. His fingers still tingled with the warmth that had already left Cooper’s hand.

  Detonation imminent.

  Then—

  BOOM.

  The ground shook violently as fire erupted from the exit they had escaped from. A heartbeat later, a second, larger explosion tore through the facility, consuming everything inside.

  The blast wave slammed into them, throwing them to the ground.

  Then—the world went dark.

  Warmth.

  That was the first thing Varen noticed. The unbearable heat of the bunker was gone. No alarms. No fire. Just… warmth.

  His fingers twitched. His body ached, but the pain felt distant—like he wasn’t quite inside himself.

  The weight of Cooper’s hand was gone.

  It wasn’t a dream.

  The moment it slipped away was the moment he lost a part of himself.

  Then, a steady beeping cut through the fog. Sharp. Rhythmic. Unfamiliar.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  Varen’s eyes fluttered open.

  White light. Blurred shapes. The sterile scent of disinfectant.

  Where am I?

  A voice murmured somewhere nearby. Then—footsteps.

  "You’re finally awake, kid."

  The gruff voice was unmistakable. Telo. His one good eye radiated something rare—relief.

  He pressed a button on the monitor, likely calling for the doctors.

  A pause.

  Then—softer than Varen had ever heard him speak—

  "I’m sorry for your loss."

  Varen said nothing. There was nothing left to say.

  The room was quiet, save for the steady beeping of the monitors.

  After the doctors finished examining him, the door hissed open. A soldier stepped inside.

  Telo immediately stood at attention.

  A moment passed. Then, just as quickly, he eased back into his seat.

  The newcomer carried himself with the weight of experience—a man hardened by war, shaped by its brutality. Scars lined his face, each one a story untold. His uniform, though well-kept, bore subtle signs of wear—proof that he had spent more time on the battlefield than behind a desk.

  His gaze settled on Varen.

  "Hello. I presume you’re Varen Noctus?" His voice was steady, and measured. Not unkind, but firm. "I have a few questions for you."

  "Ask away," Varen answered, his head still ringing.

  The questioning began.

  The soldier pulled up a chair and sat across from Varen. His gaze was sharp, but there was something else behind it—something heavier.

  "I’m sorry for your loss."

  Varen’s breath hitched.

  "Cooper was a good man. One of the best."

  A pause. The soldier’s voice tightened.

  "Tell me what happened."

  Varen swallowed. Where did he even start?

  "We were in the bunker. Pirates were evacuating. The self-destruct sequence was activated—"

  "Back up. How did you end up in that bunker?"

  "Captured during the attack on Arun—"

  "Who else was with you?"

  "Telo. Other prisoners."

  "How did you escape?"

  "We fought our way out. Cooper was with us."

  The soldier’s jaw tightened.

  "Did he suffer?"

  Varen flinched.

  "He—he took a shot to the chest. There wasn’t time to help him. The bunker was collapsing—"

  "Was he still alive when you left him?"

  Varen’s breath hitched. He clenched his fists.

  "No."

  Silence.

  The soldier exhaled, his grief barely contained beneath his hardened exterior. But when he spoke again, his tone had changed.

  "Why did he die, and you didn’t?"

  The words hit harder than a gunshot.

  Varen’s chest tightened.

  "I—I don’t know."

  The soldier leaned forward, his voice low.

  "Make it make sense, Noctus. Cooper doesn’t just die for nothing."

  Varen’s pulse pounded in his ears.

  "He gave me his holo-com. His last words were that Anara was safe."

  The soldier studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded, his face unreadable.

  "Then don’t waste what he gave you."