Page 43 of Alien Soldier's Heir

The lights overhead buzz like they know a secret.

I take the box inside and lock the door behind me.

Inside is the flight manual he borrowed the day before our lines blurred into something neither of us could name.

I run my fingers over the cover. It’s bent at the edges now, the spine creased like it’s been read and reread and maybe even clutched in hands shaking with frustration.

Tucked between the pages is a note.

Simple. Folded.

No regrets. Just the truth.

I sit on the floor.

I cry.

Not loud. Not messy.

Just silent and steady and real.

Because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

I’m afraid I already know the ending.

And I’m still praying I’m wrong.

CHAPTER 19

KAZ

The announcement hits at 0900 sharp.

They always time it that way—early enough that everyone’s too stunned to argue, too caffeine-deprived to stage a mutiny. The assembly hall buzzes with low conversation, a current of nerves and half-suppressed bravado. The kind of tension that tastes metallic in the air, like the static before a lightning strike.

I stand near the back, hands jammed in my jacket pockets, trying not to look like I care.

Which, of course, means I care way too damn much.

Trozius strides in with that stiff-backed authority that could silence a riot. His uniform’s pristine, voice clipped. “Final results for the First Ray short list,” he says. No preamble. No ceremony. Just execution by information.

The holoscreen flickers to life behind him.

FINALISTS: YORIS — SWAN — KAZIMIR.

The room goes still for half a second before erupting.

Yoris grins. That smug, razor-sharp, I-knew-it grin that makes me want to deck him. Swan blinks, caught completely off guard, and then laughs—quiet, disbelieving. He claps me on the shoulder hard enough to jolt me forward.

“Well, hell,” he says, voice low but bright. “Guess we made the cut.”

“Guess we did,” I mutter.

But my brain’s already spinning. Swan? That’s new. He wasn’t even in the top five last rotation. He’s good—steady, clean—but he’s not usuallyspotlightmaterial. Someone pulled strings. Adjusted scores. Moved chess pieces behind the curtain.

Yoris doesn’t even look surprised. Just steps forward like he’s already wearing the First Ray insignia. He catches my eye, smirks, and mouths:try to keep up.

I roll my shoulders back and grin, all teeth. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”