Carts rolled. Doors opened. Papers were scanned and secured. People moved—some angry, some relieved.
Solara was moving.
And somewhere beyond it—
Virel waited.
Many people were relieved.
Some even smiled.
Leaving Solara—if only temporarily—felt like stepping away from a place that had learned their names too well. Chaos lingered in the walls. The air still remembered screams, alarms—power tearing itself apart.
Others didn't welcome it.
For some, Solara was not just a base.
It was a vow.
Thane emerged from the corridor in a foul mood, his two-day rest torn apart by urgent comms and relocation orders. One arm sat stiff in a cast, a leg locked in a brace—injuries that should have slowed him.
They didn't.
He carried a ridiculous amount of Cassidy's equipment tucked against his good side, metal clinking softly with every step.
Cassidy trailed him, eye narrowed.
"I told you we could use a cart," she said.
Thane snorted.
"Yeah, yeah. My arm's busted, but I was born with two. And those carts are slow."
"They're careful," Cassidy shot back. "You are literally one leg short, dude."
Thane kept going—and nearly clipped the corner of a bulkhead.
Cassidy darted in front of him, planting herself directly in his path.
"Hey. I know you're trying to help," she said, hands raised. "But you gotta slow it down."
He exhaled hard. The edge in his posture dulled.
"I know," he muttered. "I know… I'm just not thrilled about leaving."
Cassidy adjusted her eye patch, studying him.
"Why? You enjoy almost dying?"
A corner of his mouth lifted.
"Not at all," he said.
"It's my oath.
To this place.
To Solara."
Her humor dropped away.
"Oh."
A pause.
"That message from the Tree…?"
She remembered the words she'd chosen at Sunslope—
the way she had known exactly what to say to make him act.
Manipulated him.
His injuries were proof of that choice.
Thane caught the shift in her expression.
"Cass," he said calmly, "I don't blame you. You nearly gave your life for the people here. For Allium. When you didn't have to."
She smiled faintly—not with happiness.
"I had to," she replied. "All I could see was death. And I'd rather go than let everyone else go."
Thane's gaze drifted to the irritated mark at her wrist.
"Some gift," he murmured. "Huh."
⸻
Solara HQ transitioned to the docks.
People filtered toward massive vessels waiting in quiet formation.
Falcons.
Sleek. Angular. Almost alive.
Large-class aircraft forged from Solara alloy plating, their hulls ribbed with imitation leylines that pulsed faintly under the sun's glow. Wings curved downward in stealth-bomber arcs, matte armor absorbing light instead of reflecting it.
Their cargo bays were deep—built for equipment, supplies, and thirty-two bodies without claustrophobia.
This wasn't just transport.
It was intent.
⸻
Thane and Cassidy ascended the ramp together.
Cassidy still carried her snack bag. She held it up proudly as Thane finally set her gadgets down.
"Check it out, T-Dog," she said. "Emergency sugar supply. If we crash, that's like two weeks of survival."
He laughed.
"T-Dog? Since when do I have a nickname?"
She shrugged.
As they passed deeper into the Falcon, Cassidy's eye caught on Allium.
He sat rigid in his seat, gaze lowered.
Something about him felt… off.
He looked up as she approached.
"You have consumed three bags of the crunchy items," he said.
She froze mid-step, clutching the bag protectively and checking for tears.
"What—what do you mean?"
"I measured mass variation through your gait," Allium replied. "The weight changed."
She side-eyed him.
"Okay, Dad. I'll pace myself."
His brow creased.
"I am not a father."
Cassidy grinned and continued on without explaining the joke.
Further inside—
Rose was already seated.
She avoided Allium's eyes entirely, turning her focus toward the floor. She'd packed almost nothing—med kit, painkillers from her prior injury, and hands drawn instinctively toward her side.
Cassidy noticed.
Said nothing.
She headed toward the front, joining other technicians assigned to monitor the Falcon's core systems.
⸻
At the ramp's edge, another figure hesitated.
Weaver.
Each step he took carried weight—not physical, but something heavier. He spotted Thane settling into a seat.
Weaver paused when he saw him.
"Champion," Weaver said lightly. "Good to see you upright."
Thane smirked.
"Didn't have a choice," he added. "Orders don't wait."
Weaver chuckled and continued forward.
Then he saw Allium.
Allium did not look up.
But his body knew.
Weaver approached without breaking eye contact.
"Allium," he asked gently, "may I sit beside you?"
A small nod.
Nothing more.
Weaver took the seat, careful with his movements. He had no idea what Allium now knew—only that something had changed in a way he couldn't measure
He broke the silence first.
"I understand why you acted without telling me," Weaver said quietly. "You chose for yourself. That matters."
Allium shifted.
Questions crowded his thoughts—countless, pressing, suffocating.
Only one escaped.
He looked at Weaver.
"What am I?"
Weaver did not answer immediately.
He chose his words with care.
"You are Allium," he said at last. "A being who holds balance—not because you were commanded to… but because you choose to."
It was not the whole truth.
It was the safest one.
Before more could be said, the intercom cut through the cabin.
Departure in minutes.
⸻
Jax, Hawk, and Sable boarded together.
Each step carried intent—and a quiet edge of hope.
Jax moved toward the cockpit. Thane rose to follow.
Jax turned sharply.
"Champion," he said. "Rest on the way."
"I've rested for two days," Thane protested. "I'll be fine."
He tried to pass.
Jax stepped into his path.
"That's an order."
Thane blinked—then sighed and returned to his seat.
Jax entered the flight deck. Pilots adjusted the yoke, compensating for Solara winds and the massive scar in the sky above—the distortion still tugging at weather and navigation alike.
Sable and Hawk joined him.
Hawk reported, "After some convincing—Raya, Elysia, and the Seraphim are aboard."
"Valeum," Sable corrected flatly.
Hawk rolled his eyes but nodded.
Jax keyed the radio.
"Fasten seatbelts. Flight duration: forty-five minutes. Expect turbulence from the scar."
Outside, crews disengaged cryogenic propellant lines.
Dock doors opened with a resonant hum.
One by one, the Falcons surged forward—slipping into the air as if resistance had forgotten them.
As they climbed, Solara's light ignited the hulls into blazing red. Thrusters flared deep violet.
With Solara at their backs—
They set course for Virel.