KAZ
The first thing I feel is softness.
A bed. Real bed. Sheets that smell like soap and Nova’s shampoo. The mattress dips under my weight in all the right places. There’s light on my face—natural light, filtered through gauzy curtains. Warm. Golden.
I crack one eye open and squint.
It’s morning. Or close enough. The sky outside the window’s a soft smear of orange and violet. Daveros morning.
I’m home.
That realization hits so fast, so deep, it makes my throat tighten.
I survived.
Gods, I survived.
I shift, groaning, and everything aches. But it’s the dull kind of ache that says I’m healing. My ribs are no longer screaming. My leg's out of the brace. My face—well, if there are scars, I’ll wear them like medals.
I blink again. The room comes into focus.
Nova’s quarters. Only… it’s different now.
Our coats hang side by side on the pegboard by the door. There’s a pair of Dar’s tiny boots kicked off by the threshold, oneupside down. A canvas scribbled in bright crayon colors hangs above the couch—probably a planet, maybe a dragon. There’s a cluttered tray on the nightstand with two half-read books, a mug that saysFly Like Hell, and…
Three mugs in the kitchenette.
Not two.
Three.
One with my name burned into the ceramic.
Roots.
That’s what this is.
I’m not just crashing here.
This ismine.
Ours.
The door hisses quietly, and I don’t move—just watch from where I’m tucked in the sheets.
Nova pads in barefoot, hair twisted up in a lazy bun, loose black tank falling off one shoulder. She’s carrying a cup of caf in one hand and humming under her breath. She sets it down, then turns—and freezes.
Our eyes meet.
“Hey,” I rasp, voice rough with sleep and emotion and gods know what else.
She stares at me for a second like she’s not sure I’m real.
Then she crosses the room in three long strides and sits on the edge of the bed.
Her hand cups my face. Thumb brushes the line of my jaw like she’s trying to memorize the feel.
“You’re awake,” she whispers.
