Seyra, standing slightly apart, watched the scene with a faint smile… but her eyes told a different story. A shadow crossed her gaze. She studied Adam with particular attention. Something inside her twisted.

  The contrast. The gap between them. Kiran was at the end of his rope. His body bore the marks of a waking nightmare: torn skin, bruises, drained of all strength. And Adam? Upright. Alert. Almost untouched. His face, his clothes, his body… nothing suggested he had gone through the same hell.

  Seyra narrowed her eyes slightly.

  She thought back to his hesitation when he mentioned the creature. His silences. His almost unnatural calm in the face of danger, exhaustion, death. It wasn’t normal. Not human. And it wasn’t simple luck.

  Something was wrong.

  A dull tension began to coil in her stomach. A premonition. A certainty slowly taking shape in the shadows.

  Adam wasn’t telling everything.

  He was hiding something. This wasn’t luck. It was something fundamental.

  Slowly regaining his composure, Kiran wiped his tears away with the sleeve of his trembling arm. He stepped back from Adam, his eyes still shining with emotion, though now tinged with curiosity.

  “But you, Adam… how did you get out of it? You don’t even have a scratch. That’s not normal.”

  Adam glanced away slightly, as if caught off guard.

  “I just… got lucky. Really. I found an old blaster in the wreckage. I think the shot you heard… was mine, when I ran into that… thing.”

  Kiran’s eyes widened slightly.

  “That was you?… You saved my skin. Again. But when you say ‘luck,’ you’re not going to pull any of those weird things you’ve been doing since Oberon, right?”

  That sentence caught Seyra’s attention immediately.

  She froze slightly, one eyebrow rising. Oberon? The name meant nothing to her. She had never heard of such a world. And those “weird things”? Adam had never mentioned anything like that.

  She studied the two men with new, silent suspicion. A Neurorian and a Terran together was already rare… but something about this situation felt off.

  Adam replied instantly, a hint of tension in his voice. He shot Kiran a sharp look—a silent message, almost a warning.

  “No. None of that. Just the blaster… and maybe a crash that wasn’t quite as violent as yours.”

  He forced a smile.

  “And besides, it seems the blaster has the kind of style you like: light, precise, well balanced. See? It’s all just luck.”

  Kiran held his gaze for a moment, then nodded, half convinced. But a spark still lingered in his eyes—the kind of curiosity that refused to die.

  “If I’d had that thing in my hands, believe me, that damn monster wouldn’t have turned me into a scratching post! The cat would’ve quickly taken its rightful place at the top of the food chain!”

  He punctuated the sentence with a light laugh, deliberately cheerful, trying to ease the tension. For a moment, humor pushed aside the shadows of the night and the recent past.

  But in the shadows, Seyra remained silent. And her doubts only grew.

  Still troubled, Seyra decided to speak again, her voice calm but loaded with implication.

  “So… there was a second creature?”

  Kiran looked up, surprised.

  “A second? No, impossible. There was only one—the one that attacked me. I’m certain of it. It’s probably still lurking around here somewhere. Actually… how did you even get here without it spotting you?”

  Seyra exchanged a brief glance with Adam, then turned fully toward him, as if casually—but every word measured like a chess move.

  “That’s exactly what I’m wondering. Strange, isn’t it? Only one creature… yet Adam claims he killed one. Right?”

  She said it in a neutral, almost innocent tone, but her eyes searched the Terran’s face for a crack.

  Adam hesitated. His gaze dropped for a moment. Then he answered calmly—almost too calmly.

  “Indeed. It seems unlikely there was only one.”

  Kiran frowned, confused.

  “Wait… are you saying there might be more?”

  Seyra didn’t take her eyes off Adam.

  “I’m just saying that if Adam killed one, and you were attacked by another… then there must be at least two creatures. Unless…”

  She let the sentence hang, deliberately ambiguous.

  Adam sighed slightly, clearly annoyed with the direction the conversation was taking.

  “Yes. I killed one.”

  Silence fell heavily.

  Kiran stared at him, mouth slightly open. Seyra merely nodded almost imperceptibly.

  Confirmation obtained.

  But there was neither admiration nor surprise in her eyes.

  Only more questions.

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  “What?! You killed it? Seriously? But… how?” Kiran blurted out, ears perked in shock.

  “Luck,” Adam replied shortly. “And the blaster… which is empty now.”

  “Just the blaster?” Seyra pressed, her calm tone barely masking the sharp curiosity behind it.

  “Wait, wait…” Kiran said, squinting with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You used a blaster? You?! You can’t aim with that thing!”

  Adam looked away again, clearly unwilling to continue the conversation.

  Seyra frowned slightly.

  “Really? He’s never been able to shoot with a blaster?” she asked, almost innocently.

  Kiran nodded, smirking.

  “At the institute, during shooting practice… he was legendary. Shots in the walls, the ceiling… everywhere except the target. But since Oberon, I swear, he’s become strange. Faster. More instinctive. Maybe that explains—”

  “Kiran. That’s enough.” Adam cut in sharply.

  Silence fell again.

  Seyra watched Adam for a long moment. She said nothing—but her eyes spoke for her.

  She wasn’t fooled.

  And now she knew Adam wasn’t being entirely honest either.

  “Oberon? What kind of place is that?” Seyra asked, her gaze fixed on Adam.

  “Adam and I were part of an archaeological team,” Kiran explained gravely. “An expedition to a desert planet a few systems away. A barren world, no signs of life… at least, that’s what we thought.”

  “And during our research, we were attacked,” Adam added, arms crossed, as if reluctant to elaborate.

  “Attacked? By whom?” Seyra asked.

  “By the same people you fight,” Adam replied suddenly.

  “The Consortium?” Seyra whispered, as if afraid to believe they might share a common enemy.

  “Exactly,” Kiran confirmed. “But… you really fight them?”

  A faint, almost sad smile crossed Seyra’s lips.

  “‘Fight’ might be a bit strong…”

  She paused, choosing her words carefully.

  Then she decided to take a step forward. If she wanted to uncover what Adam was hiding, she would have to give them something in return. And Kiran… clearly had a tendency to talk.

  “As I told Adam earlier, I’m part of a movement. A larger organization that no longer recognizes the Consortium’s legitimacy. We represent opposition. A counterpower. A hope for those who wish to see the Orion Arm free again.

  “That hope is Avalora.”

  She watched their reactions carefully.

  “A political entity working to expose the Consortium’s true nature and bring it down from within. Through information. Through truth… not through weapons. No open war. Too many civilians would die. So we gather intelligence. We infiltrate. We reveal. Slowly. Strategically.”

  “A soft revolution…” Kiran murmured thoughtfully.

  “Not a revolution,” Seyra corrected. “A disillusionment. We want the Consortium’s people to realize for themselves that they’re on a leash.”

  Kiran exchanged a knowing glance with Adam, a mischievous spark lighting his eyes.

  “Well… Adam, are you thinking what I’m thinking? We might have one hell of a scoop for them about the Consortium’s real intentions.”

  Adam stared silently into the flickering campfire flames.

  Then he slowly nodded.

  “A scoop?” Seyra asked, curiosity sharpening her voice. “What do you mean?”

  “On Oberon, the Consortium attacked us,” Kiran said heavily. “No warning. No demands. They massacred our team… all our friends were killed.”

  He lowered his eyes.

  “They destroyed our camp,” he continued softly. “Burned our research. Tried to destroy our ship… and shot at us like we were targets.”

  “Damn… that cursed Consortium,” Seyra growled, slamming her fist against the rock. “I’m sorry about your friends. But I’m not surprised. That’s their signature. Strike fast. No survivors. No trace.”

  “Well… they failed,” Kiran said with a bitter smile. “We got away.”

  “For now,” Seyra replied darkly. “They won’t forget you. Not with what you know. They’ll hunt you to the edges of the Orion Arm if they have to.”

  “Not if we change ships,” Adam said. “They don’t know what we look like. That’s why we were heading to Neuror.”

  “Neuror?” Seyra repeated, surprised.

  “Yes,” Kiran said. “We were only a few hours away.”

  Seyra slowly shook her head.

  “No. That’s impossible. You’re nowhere near Neuror.”

  “What?!” Kiran choked. “You’re joking. Adam, tell her!”

  But Adam himself was frowning now.

  “Wait… no. I recalculated the trajectory several times. It was correct. We can’t be that far off.”

  “And yet you are,” Seyra said firmly. “We’re at the edge of the Hedorian system. The nearest planet is Hedora.”

  Silence fell.

  Adam stared at her, stunned.

  “That’s… impossible. How could I have miscalculated that badly?” he muttered.

  “I swear it’s true,” Seyra said calmly. “You’ll see once we reach my ship. I’ve been stationed here for over a month, awaiting orders for a mission on Hedora.”

  She hesitated.

  “But since my brother…”

  She didn’t finish the sentence.

  “Hedora is on the opposite side of Neuror…” Adam murmured. “The ship must have been more damaged than I thought when I entered the coordinates… the navigation system must have completely malfunctioned…”

  Seyra spoke again, more firmly.

  “Either way, you’re here now. And you need to understand something: Neuror could never have been a safe destination. If you truly fled the Consortium, trust me—they didn’t lose your trail.”

  She gestured slightly.

  “They were probably already waiting for you there.”

  “Waiting for us? But how? They didn’t even know our destination!” Kiran protested.

  Adam nodded slowly.

  “Seyra might be right… they found us on Oberon after all. That world is completely isolated, off commercial routes, not even on standard maps…”

  “Exactly,” Seyra said. “Their reconnaissance ships can detect hyperspace distortions. Worse—without signal masking or jamming, your ship consoles transmit data without you even knowing. Trajectory. Position. Ship status… everything.”

  She folded her arms.

  “If Adam entered coordinates for Neuror, the Consortium could have intercepted them. They would’ve been waiting at your hyperspace exit point. But if your damaged ship accidentally diverted you toward Hedora… then maybe that’s where they’re waiting.”

  Silence.

  “In that case,” she concluded quietly, “your crash here may have saved your lives. Ironic, isn’t it? This disaster… might have been your only chance. That famous luck.”

  “Seeing the bright side even in the worst situations, huh…” Kiran muttered tiredly.

  “Neuror or Hedora—it doesn’t matter as long as we find a ship and the equipment we need to continue our research,” Adam said firmly.

  Seyra frowned.

  “Continue your research? After all this? After a crash, a manhunt, your friends’ deaths… you still want to chase ruins?”

  “Yes,” Adam replied sharply. “We’re archaeologists. It’s our job… our duty.”

  “And you’d risk your lives for that?” she asked skeptically.

  Adam hesitated.

  “Yes. It’s important… we have to continue.”

  “Well… according to Adam,” Kiran muttered awkwardly.

  Seyra sensed it instantly.

  A crack.

  An opening.

  And she slipped into it effortlessly.

  “Important?” she said casually. “I don’t see how digging through ruins on a lost planet could change anything. Isn’t it just dust and rocks?”

  Kiran slowly lifted his head. His lips parted before he could stop himself.

  “Because… what Eamon discovered there… could change everything.”

  Seyra raised an eyebrow.

  “Eamon? Your expedition leader?”

  “Yes… Before he died, he entrusted something to Adam. Something important. I… don’t fully understand it. But Adam can explain it better than I can.”

  He turned toward his friend, eyes heavy with meaning.

  “It might be our only hope.”

  Now fully focused, Seyra locked her gaze onto Adam’s.

  The tension in the air was palpable.

  As if a veil was finally about to be lifted.

  Ascendium will be released!

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