The light of the explosion lingered long after the dreadnought was gone.
From the windows of Havenreach, people watched in silence as the sun-bright flare faded, leaving only drifting wreckage and the scattered husks of the Ghost Admiral's fleet. For a moment, the war seemed distant, almost a dream dissolving with the light.
Inside the Ark, Kael knelt beside his brother.
Taren's breaths came shallow, each one a struggle. His armor was ruined, conduits torn from his body leaving raw wounds that pulsed faintly with crimson glow. The implants still clung to him like scars, but their light had dimmed.
Kael pressed a hand to his shoulder. "Stay with me. Don't let go."
Taren's eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then finding Kael. "You… should have let me burn with it."
Kael shook his head, voice breaking. "Not a chance. I swore I wouldn't lose you."
A faint, bitter smile touched Taren's lips. "You always were too stubborn for your own good."
The Ark docked with Havenreach, its hangars filled with smoke, sparks, and exhausted cheers. Civilians wept in the streets, soldiers embraced, medics ran frantically to aid the wounded. The station was alive, but barely.
Kael carried Taren himself, his brother's weight heavy across his shoulders. The crowd parted in silence as they passed—eyes wide, whispers rising. The Ghost Admiral, broken, stripped of his throne, delivered by the man who defied him.
Lyra met them at the medbay doors, her hands trembling though her voice tried to stay firm. "Get him inside. Now."
Kael laid Taren on the table, refusing to release his hand even as medics swarmed. Lyra's eyes darted between them, her voice soft enough for Kael alone. "You should be resting too. You're barely standing."
Kael shook his head. "Not until I know he's safe."
Hours blurred together.
Havenreach's lights flickered, power rationed to keep life-support steady while engineers raced to patch breaches. Reports came in of shattered fleets, crippled warships limping into the belt, survivors begging for amnesty. The battle had ended, but the aftermath stretched like a shadow.
Kael stayed in the medbay, silent sentinel at Taren's side.
At last, Lyra approached him, exhaustion carved into her face. She set a hand on his shoulder. "He'll live. The implants fused with his nervous system—we can't remove them without killing him. But the conduits you destroyed severed the ship's hold. He's free."
Kael exhaled, relief shaking through him. He brushed a hand across his brother's forehead, whispering, "Then we start over."
Lyra hesitated, then asked the question Kael had been avoiding. "And if he doesn't want redemption?"
Kael's jaw tightened, but his voice was steady. "Then I'll hold onto hope until he does."
Days passed. Havenreach rebuilt itself in fragments—shattered hulls repaired with scavenged metal, burned circuits rewired by weary hands. The survivors of the Ghost Admiral's fleet were brought in, some broken and hollow, others defiant even in chains.
Kael moved among them, speaking not as a conqueror but as one of them, offering choices instead of chains. Some spat at his feet. Others listened. Slowly, cracks of light seeped into the darkness Taren had left behind.
Taren himself remained silent. He lay in recovery, his strength returning, his gaze often fixed on the stars beyond the viewport. When Kael visited, sometimes Taren spoke, but mostly he listened.
One evening, Kael found him awake, eyes clear, though shadowed with weight.
"You should hate me," Taren murmured.
Kael leaned against the frame of the bed, arms crossed. "Maybe I should. But I don't."
Taren laughed weakly, the sound brittle. "You're a fool."
Kael smiled faintly. "Then I'll be your fool."
Havenreach became a beacon in the days that followed. Refugees arrived by the hundreds, drawn to its promise of safety. Soldiers deserted the remnants of the Ghost Admiral's fleet, swearing allegiance to something new.
But whispers carried too: that the war wasn't over. That the Ghost Admiral's allies still lurked in the dark, waiting to strike. That freedom bought in fire was fragile as glass.
One night, Kael walked the outer ring with Lyra. The stars glimmered against the void, cold but beautiful.
"You've changed," she said softly.
Kael looked at her, surprised. "How so?"
"You used to fight like you were running from something. Now you fight like you're protecting something."
His chest tightened, warmth spreading in the quiet between them. "Maybe I finally found something worth protecting."
Lyra smiled, faint and tired but real. "Then don't forget that. Not when the shadows return."
And they would. Kael knew it.
Because as he looked back through the viewport, he saw Taren staring at the same stars, a man torn between redemption and ruin.
The Ghost Admiral was gone. But the brother remained.
And in the silence of the void, Kael swore he would not let him fall again.