Page 15

KAIRON

T he sun filters through the thick foliage, casting slanted, golden shafts of light that cut into the oppressive heat.

Sweat clings to my skin like a second layer, slick and uncomfortable.

I move with practiced ease, the salvaged plasma blade humming softly as it slices through the underbrush.

Each swing is brutal and efficient; silence is my ally in this relentless jungle.

Ava lags behind me, her pace faltering. The torn muscle in her thigh slows her down, and I can hear her sharp breaths mingling with the cacophony of insects buzzing around us. Sweat trickles down her face, glistening on her freckled skin. She clenches her jaw, defiance flickering in her hazel eyes.

I push forward but keep an ear tuned to her struggle. She stumbles once—her foot catches on a root—and I instinctively turn to catch her elbow.

“Easy,” I murmur.

But she jerks away before I can steady her.

“You’re bleeding again,” I state flatly, eyeing the fresh crimson stain on her cargo pants that darkens with every step.

“Then don’t look.” Her voice is strained but laced with defiance.

I snort, not bothering to hide my annoyance. It’s irritating how she refuses help when it’s clear she needs it.

We continue moving through the thick jungle air, pushing deeper into this alien world that threatens to swallow us whole.

Ava’s stubbornness irritates me more than it should; she fights against every challenge even as it wears her down.

A part of me respects that tenacity—maybe even admires it—but right now, it's a liability.

The sun hangs high, unyielding as the jungle hums with life around us—a chorus of chirps and rustles that feels almost mocking in its vibrancy compared to our struggle. I press on ahead, hoping to find some semblance of shelter or safety soon.

Ava stumbles again, this time cursing under her breath as she bites back another wince of pain.

“Keep moving,” I say sharply without turning back to look at her.

“Yeah, yeah.” Her tone drips with sarcasm despite the strain in her voice.

We both know we need to find a relay beacon or something—anything—that will lead us back to civilization or at least give us an edge in this damn jungle.

As I cut through more brush, frustration simmers beneath my surface; there’s a weight pressing down on me—not just from the physical exhaustion but from something deeper that I can’t quite grasp yet.

The terrain here changes so rapidly that suddenly a slope rises steeply, the moss-covered ground slick beneath my boots. Roots claw out of the incline like jagged bones, and I push ahead, forcing my way up.

Behind me, Ava slips again. I glance back, irritation bubbling in my chest as she steadies herself, hands shaking with effort.

“Stop being stubborn,” I snap.

“No thanks.” She glares at me through a curtain of tangled hair. Her resolve grates against my nerves; the way she refuses help only seems to strengthen her resolve.

I keep climbing, every muscle protesting as I haul myself up. With each step, I feel her struggle—her determination pushes through the air between us like a physical force.

She slips once more, her foot skidding on damp earth, but this time she doesn’t curse; she bites her lip and digs in deeper. My frustration mixes with something else—something softer—but I crush it down hard. I can’t afford weakness, not from myself or from her.

Finally, we reach the top of the ridge. Ava collapses against a stone outcrop, panting heavily. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, and for a moment I let myself observe her—the sweat-soaked fabric clinging to her body, the fire still ignited in her hazel eyes despite the exhaustion.

I stand at the edge, scanning the vast expanse before us.

The jungle stretches endlessly in all directions—a rolling sea of emerald hills swallowed by mist and shadow.

In the distance rise towering ruins—alien structures half-choked by vines and decay.

No ships pierce the sky; no signals flicker through the dense atmosphere.

Only green and silence.

“They won’t come for you.” My voice cuts through the quiet air like a blade. “Not the IHC. Not your command. They cut their losses.”

She doesn’t respond at first—doesn’t flinch at my words or turn to meet my gaze. Instead, she stares out over the horizon with that tight jaw of hers, fingers curling into fists that tremble slightly against the stone.

I watch closely as understanding dawns on her face like a slow sunrise; she finally grasps that she’s alone here. That everything she believed in—the system she wanted so badly to be part of—has abandoned her on this forsaken planet.

The weight of it settles between us, thickening the air with unspoken truths that neither of us wants to address just yet.

Ava sways slightly, her shoulders trembling—not from pain, but from something deeper breaking inside her. I can see it in the way her gaze drifts off into the distance, searching for answers that won't come. The moment stretches between us, heavy and taut like a wire pulled too tight.

I lower myself beside her on the stone, not saying a word, but I don’t pull away either. It feels like a truce—fragile and unsteady. The jungle hums around us, alive and mocking as if it knows our vulnerabilities.

Her silence thickens the air. I can feel the heat radiating from her skin—a pulse of desperation that resonates within me.

I recognize the look in her eyes; it mirrors my own from years ago when the Reapers first understood we’d been cast out by the galaxy.

That final, bitter shattering of hope when we realized there was no place left for us.

I want to touch her—just a brush of fingers against skin to anchor her to this moment, to this reality—but I don't. Instead, I remain still, grappling with the strange urge twisting in my gut.

Finally, she breaks the silence, voice quiet and brittle like dry leaves crunching underfoot.

“They told me this mission would make me.” She pauses as if weighing each word carefully before continuing. “They didn’t say I’d have to die to prove it.”

Her admission hangs in the air between us—a confession wrapped in resignation.

“Then live,” I reply without hesitation. “To spite them.”

The words feel foreign coming from my mouth—rough and raw—but they ignite something within her. A flicker crosses Ava’s face, an ember of defiance that cuts through the despair shrouding us both.

We sit there in silence as the jungle wind rustles through the leaves overhead, creating whispers that seem to echo our unspoken fears and desires. For once, we’re not enemies—not exactly. We’re just two stranded souls adrift in this alien world with broken ties holding us back.