It slips out quiet, almost soundless.
But the moment it leaves my mouth, something inside me twists tight. Not pain. Not memory. Just a pull—like gravity shifted, like the universe’s center moved a few inches closer to where she is.
CHAPTER 21
JAELA
The uplink flickers like it’s about to die again.
I slap the side of the transmitter with a muttered curse, and the signal steadies just long enough for the blue arc of progress to hit 100%. The upload completes. A blink. Then the transmission vanishes into the sky, eaten by the stars.
Gone.
Sent.
My knees buckle.
I slump to the floor of the makeshift lab, back against the bulkhead, the containment pod still warm against my thigh. My hands are shaking. My whole body’s trembling, actually. Not from fear this time—but something worse. Relief.
I did it.
Kel’s got a shot.
The stem cells are viable. The scan confirmed it. No degradation, no mutation. My sister’ll get them in time—she has the med team lined up, the regen chamber prepped. All we needed was the source.
Kyldak.
Gods. Kyldak.
I press my forehead against my knees and exhale through clenched teeth. He didn’t ask. Didn’t flinch. Just rolled up his sleeve and gave me what I needed. The one thing no one else in the universe could give.
And I still couldn’t tell him the truth.
The guilt eats me alive.
He should know. Hedeservesto know. But how the hell do I drop that kind of bomb in the middle of a rust-metal warcamp full of psychos who think hugs are a sign of weakness?
“Hey, babe,” I imagine saying. “So, surprise—you’ve got a son. He’s part you, part me, and he’s dying. But hey, thanks for the marrow!”
Yeah. That’ll go great.
I press my fists to my temples and groan. I can’t stay here. Not long. I need a wayoffJurtik. Need to get back to Kel. Back to Earth.
But every exit route’s blown. Literally.
Except…
The ruins.
I dig into my satchel and pull out the cracked tablet I’ve been hiding. The coordinates are still there, pulsing faintly like a second heartbeat. Buried out in the Black Glass Desert. A spot no one dares tread. Precursor zone. Unmapped. Supposed to be cursed.
Or filled with tech so ancient it might as well be magic.
One theory—barely a whisper, deep in the black-market message boards—says they were building a wormhole generator before extinction hit. Portable.
One step through, and boom. Instant transport across any vector synced to the frequency. A galaxy jump. The kind that hasn’t existed since the early wars.
It’s a long shot.
