Page 48

E mily

The morning air is crisp and clear, laced with the scent of damp soil and the vibrant flowers that bloom near the stream. A flock of psittas flies overhead, and somewhere in the distance, I hear the sharp clang of metal striking metal.

The world feels still and peaceful. I know it won’t last. Things will get hectic soon, but that only makes moments like this more precious.

Vrok sits beside me on a stone bench outside our new hut, the one we chose together after he decided not to stay in the place he once shared with his father.

His shoulder brushes mine with every slow breath he takes.

He’s still healing, but his wound has already closed up, and he’s getting stronger each day.

“You’re awfully quiet. Magnis got your tongue?” I tease, nudging his knee with mine.

“I was just thinking.” His mouth curves into an easy smile.

His smiles still take my breath away each and every time. They’re a gift, one that I cherish all the more because I know how rare they are.

I wait, giving him time to put his thoughts into words.

“If war comes,” he continues after a quiet moment, “I will fight for my tribe, just like always. But I won’t be fighting just for duty. For the first time, I’ll fight for a future. For you.”

My breath catches at his words. It’s like he’s finally found something solid to hold on to after drifting so long in the shadows.

I want to hold on to it too. But the truth is, the talk of war still scares me. I’ve already lost too much, and the thought of losing Vrok… No, stop it.

Fear and worry will probably always be a refrain in the back of my head. But I’m not going to let it run the show.

I’ve survived my father, alien abductions, a crash landing, betrayal, and hell, even my own grief. I’ve crawled my way through more dark times than I can count, and I’m still here. Still breathing, still fighting, still surviving. And still loving.

And if war comes, I’ll do it again. I’ll stand tall and fight back, and I’ll trust Vrok to come back to me. And in the meantime, I’ll enjoy every moment we have together.

I reach for his hand and squeeze. “Then we’ll fight for that future together.”

He doesn’t speak, just threads his fingers through mine like he’s tying himself to me.

We sit like that a little while longer, looking out over the village.

The walls are being reinforced. One of the new women is a history buff or something, and she’s been using castles back on Earth as inspiration to help strengthen our defenses.

There’s even talk of building a trebuchet.

In the arena, warriors move through their drills with sharp focus.

Even the elders are hard at work, offering their hands and their wisdom where it's needed.

Everyone knows what’s coming. And yet, laughter and smiles still fill the village. Somehow, happiness clings stubbornly to this place.

I let out a soft sigh. “I never thought I’d find happiness here,” I admit. “Not on this planet. Not after everything.”

“You brought it with you,” Vrok says simply. “Or maybe you made it.”

My throat tightens, and I glance away, blinking fast. “You’re getting way too good at saying the perfect thing.”

“I’ve had a good teacher.” His eyes are warm as they meet mine, and his mouth curves up at the corners.

But before I can say more, footsteps crunch on the path behind us.

“Haley and Draggar want everyone near the firepit,” Sorrin calls out, grinning. “They said it’s important.”

Vrok and I exchange glances, then rise and follow the sound of voices to the center of the village.

Most of the tribe is already gathered, forming a loose circle around the firepit.

Draggar stands with his arm around Haley, their matching smiles bright with barely contained joy.

Chief Daggir and the elders watch quietly, their expressions tinged with curiosity.

Haley bounces on her toes, clearly struggling to contain her excitement. “Warrix just told us—” she bursts out, then laughs. “Sorry, I can’t wait. It’s time. The baby’s being born.”

A ripple of gasps moves through the crowd.

Everyone in the tribe knows the story. Before Danir made his final climb up the mountain, he made a deposit in one of the artificial wombs the tribe uses to reproduce.

Now, after all these months, it’s time for the baby to be born…

er, or however the Laediriians come into the world.

I’m still not really sure how exactly the artificial wombs, which look like vertical aquariums, work.

Draggar and Haley made the decision to raise Danir’s child as their own.

As his brother, Draggar couldn’t bear to see the baby grow up without a family.

And Haley, though she never knew Danir, had come to love him through the stories Draggar shared.

With her gigantic heart, she never hesitated.

Together, they vowed they’d make sure his child would never feel the weight of absence, only the warmth of love.

This baby has been a long time coming. It’ll be the first baby born in the tribe in over a year.

The artificial wombs, once a symbol of survival, have begun to fail the Laediriians. Fewer babies are born each year that passes. The viability of the preloaded eggs in them is fading. And the tribe knows one day, there won’t be any more.

But not today. Today, there’s new life to celebrate.

And for Haley, who never thought she’d be a mother, this moment means more than anyone can say. She squeezes Draggar’s hand, her blue eyes bright with emotion, and tugs him toward the path that leads to the large stone hut where the artificial wombs are kept.

“Come on,” she says. “It’s happening.”

They disappear through the door and the rest of us gather outside, waiting in breathless silence and stealing glances at one another as time stretches. The air is full of tension, but it’s the good kind.

And then, at last, the door opens.

Draggar steps out, a stunned, joyful look on his face. Haley is beside him, glowing with pride, and in her arms, she holds a small bundle wrapped in a soft blanket. Warrix follows them, a quiet smile tugging at his mouth.

The baby’s skin is bright teal. It’s smooth and glows with an iridescent sheen. His tiny face is scrunched up in protest at the sudden chill of the outside world. Adorable pointed ears peek out from either side, and soft wisps of silvery-white hair crown his small head.

Draggar’s voice is rough with emotion when he speaks. “His name is Darian. We chose it because it means 'good tidings’ in Old Laedirich. It’s a fitting name for a child born in times like these.”

The tribe is silent for half a breath, and then everyone erupts into cheers, laughter, and tears.

Warriors let out sharp cries, some pounding their chests while others throw their arms around one another.

Wide smiles spread on the faces of my friends, and some of them blink back tears.

Even Daggir, always the stoic chief, looks like he’s struggling to hold it together.

His face softens as he stares at his grandson, and I swear I see the shimmer of tears in his eyes.

And me? I just stare, my heart full and ready to burst.

Vrok’s fingers brush against mine. “It’s beginning,” he says softly.

I look at him. “What is?”

He nods toward Draggar and Haley, who stand beaming in the center of the crowd, their arms cradling the next generation.

“A new era. One not ruled by fear.”

And as I lean into him, surrounded by warmth and laughter and the promise of hope, I believe him.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s enough to carry us through whatever comes next.