Nighttime was upon them, and everyone lay in their beds—everyone but one person, General Kantaos. He couldn’t bring himself to sleep; the weight of his decision would not allow his mind to rest. It pressed against his mind like an immovable object refusing to move.

  The general reached across his body and cast the blanket that clung to his skin aside, rising from the bed. He took a moment to look at himself in the mirror, his body hunched over as his arms rested against the desk, standing there as though he was looking for answers from a reflection of himself that weren’t simply going to come. After a while, he stood up and made his way to the shelter that stood outside next to their house.

  “Oh, the burden of being a leader,” he said as he looked up to the stars, hoping and praying for some sign from his father or his ancestors. “All of my people lie tucked away, sleeping in anticipation of what the morning brings. So many cling to the hope that this trip beyond the stars brings them to greater pastures—but will it? Will they finally be at peace and let go of the only planet they’ve ever called home?”

  General Kantaos’s shoulders slumped. His gaze wandered straight ahead, over the land he called home.

  “They’ll be saying goodbye to so many familiar faces to go into the unknown. I just hope and pray I’m leading them in the right direction,” said General Kantaos as his eyes continued to wander across the land, the buildings, the homes, and the sacred spots that had been there long before he was born.

  Keylah rolled over and flung out her arm to wrap around her husband, but her hand was met with nothing but the empty space her husband was meant to be occupying. Her eyes flung open. She scooted back onto her bottom and looked over, her head turning left and right, scouring the room for her husband before realising he wasn’t there. She jumped from the bed, her feet hitting the floor with a loud bang, quickly donned some clothes, and went to look for her husband.

  She looked everywhere in their home, but he wasn’t there. Her face dropped; her heart thundered against her rib cage. Just as worry began to set in, sweat dripping from her forehead, she saw him through the spare room window—sitting outside, staring into the distance.

  General Kantaos was in a world of his own; he didn’t even hear his wife leave their home. As he continued to hold his head low, a soft hand landed gently on his shoulder. His eyes flung open, raising and twisting his head. Standing there was his wife, Keylah. His lips cracked into a faint smile as he tried not to worry her.

  “I’m sorry, my love. I did not mean to wake you,” said General Kantaos.

  “What woke me, darling, was the empty bed that should’ve had my husband in it. What worried me was not knowing where you were at a time like this—only to find you out here with your head hung low. After all these years of marriage, it upsets me, my love, that you still feel your burdens are yours to bear alone,” said Keylah.

  The general turned his gaze back to the ground.

  “You didn’t ask for any of this. I chose this, all those years ago, to lead our people into the future. I was not forced. And look where it’s gotten us. My leadership has led to us leaving everything we’ve ever known behind, and our people are divided. Friends we’ve known since we were children are divided, and I’m meant to just say goodbye to them, to turn my back for greater pastures when I know what will come their way.”

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  He drew in a long breath, his chest raised high as his eyes scanned the land before lowering his head again.

  The darkness that will don their shores, swarming through like a black mist, leaving nothing and no one intact.

  “And all while under my leadership. But then I’m expected to live as if everything is okay,” said General Kantaos.

  Keylah walked around in front of her husband, taking to one knee and holding his hands. “I understand why you feel the need to hang your head low with everything that’s happening, but I cannot let you sit here and destroy yourself for something you cannot control,” she said, releasing one of his hands and reaching toward his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze.

  “When you stood up in a crowd of thousands, thousands of our people, all with their heads held low as yours is now, you offered to lead when no one else wanted that responsibility. Planet Zoron was on the brink of collapse; everything that could go wrong did. Our people were at each other’s throats. But up stepped a young Zoronian man who just wanted to help his people.”

  The general tried to fight back the tears, but one escaped and flowed down his cheek. Keylah caught it and wiped it away before wrapping her arms around him, holding him tight.

  “To see your planet restored to its former glory was a task that seemed far-fetched and impossible in the moment, but you—and you alone—had the belief that we could get back to what we once were. Little by little, day by day, you chipped away. As the days became months, and the months became years, you slowly built us back to where we were.

  “Without you, there wouldn’t be a Zoron to call home or any of our people to save, my love. So whilst I know it is of little consolation to you at this hour, you have already saved them countless times over. My father used to say, ‘You can only give your all. Once you have done that, you can hold your head high with pride, knowing you’ve done all you can.’ That always gave me comfort—and I hope it does the same for you,” said Keylah as she rubbed her husband’s back.

  The general took in a long, deep breath, then hugged his wife back. “I don’t know where I’d be without you,” said General Kantaos.

  Keylah released her arms from him and rose to her feet. “Walk with me,” she said, offering her hand.

  The general looked at it for a brief moment before extending his arm and taking it, rising to his feet. “Where are we going?” asked General Kantaos.

  “Just wait and see,” Keylah said, a wide smile spreading across her face.

  The couple wandered through the land until they came upon a solemn tree. It looked weathered, beaten down by time itself, barely clinging on, with little to no leaves upon it. It was the only tree for miles, and for the two of them, it held meaning.

  A smile broke across General Kantaos’s face. “Now this is a trip down memory lane. This is where we shared our first kiss, away from prying eyes,” said General Kantaos.

  Keylah ran toward the tree, spinning and dancing with love in her heart as she touched its bark, remembering them as teenagers—out of breath as they ran there from town, laughing, giggling, and excited to be away from everyone. Then stopping, looking into each other’s eyes beneath the tree before slowly drawing in and kissing one another.

  “You mean away from my father,” she laughed. “He would’ve killed you if he’d found out you kissed his little girl.”

  “Oh, he would have indeed,” said the general, and the pair sniggered, reminiscing about the old days. They sat down, their backs against the tree, looking up into the sky as the stars shined ever so brightly.

  “What a beautiful night it is. The stars came out above our spot to give us one last memory we’ll never forget,” General Kantaos said.

  “We’ll always have the memory of our planet up here,” said Keylah, pointing to her head before continuing, “and when we think about those moments, we’ll still feel them in our hearts as if it were yesterday, my love. Memories of ours for an eternity—no one can ever take those away or how they make us feel,” she said with warmth and love.

  As the pair gazed up at the stars one last time in one another’s arms, they knew in that moment, no matter what happens, if they had each other—they were going to be okay.