The silence after Luna's collapse wasn't peaceful.
It was fragile.
Alexander held his daughter like she might dissolve if he blinked. Her breath was steady now, but shallow—like a bird resting after flying too far. Scarlett sat beside them, one hand on Luna's forehead, the other gripping the edge of the wooden keepsake box so hard her knuckles turned white.
Outside the Resonance Ark, the battlefield hung in limbo.
The Void Devourers hadn't attacked since Nihilus vanished. But they hadn't left, either. They drifted in loose clusters, dark shapes against the starfield, motionless as tombstones.
Waiting.
Watching.
Alexander knew that stillness. He'd seen it in wolves before they struck. In men before they broke.
But this… this felt different.
Like grief wearing armor.
He stood slowly, joints cracking from tension. "They're not regrouping," he said, voice low. "They're remembering."
Scarlett looked up, eyes sharp. "Remembering what?"
"Whatever joy they lost."
