Doren went through the pre-flight routine on autopilot, his hands moving through familiar motions while his mind stayed stuck on the cottage, on Marina’s face, on the weight of the box she’d given him.
“She’s dying,” he said. The words came out flat. Hollow.
Emma didn’t ask how he knew. She just moved closer, her body a warm presence at his side. “I’m sorry.”
“She’s been dying for years. She told me once that her species only lives to about a hundred and twenty, and she was already past that when we met.” He entered the coordinates for the Ashtar system, watching the numbers scroll across the screen. “I always thought I’d have more time. That I’d come back someday, show her what I’d found, tell her she was right to believe in me.”
“You still can.”
“No.” He shook his head. “She knows she won’t see me again. That’s why she gave me everything—all her records, all her research. She’s not passing the torch. She’s saying goodbye.”
Emma’s arms slid around him from behind, her cheek pressing against his shoulder blade. Ari had been settled in her crib, asleep, and now it was just the two of them in the quiet cockpit.
“Tell me about her,” Emma said softly. “Tell me what she meant to you.”
So he did.
He told her about the market on Voss Prime, about the kindness of a stranger who saw potential in a desperate thief. He told her about the letters they’d exchanged over the years, full of theories and discoveries and the kind of intellectual passion that had made him feel seen in a way his father never had. He toldher about the rare visits—always too brief, always ending with promises to return that he’d never quite managed to keep.
And he told her about the guilt. The shame of chasing his own dreams while Marina grew old and frail in her cottage, surrounded by the records of a life spent searching for something she’d never find.
“She didn’t mind,” Emma said when he finished. “She wanted you to search. That’s why she told you about the Vault in the first place.”
“I know.” He leaned back into her embrace, letting her warmth anchor him. “It doesn’t make it easier.”
“It’s not supposed to be easy. Losing people you love never is.” Her lips brushed the back of his neck. “But she’s still here, Doren. In the records she gave you, in the knowledge she shared, in the dream she passed on. That’s a kind of immortality.”
He turned in her arms, pulling her close. She fit against him perfectly, her head tucked under his chin, her heart beating steady against his chest.
“How do you do that?” he murmured.
“Do what?”
“Make everything seem bearable. Even when it isn’t.”
She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “It’s a gift. I was born with it.”
Despite everything, he laughed. It was a weak, watery sound, but it was real.
“I don’t deserve you,” he said.
“Probably not.” She smiled, soft and warm. “But you’ve got me anyway. So you’d better get used to it.”
She kissed him then—gentle, tender, full of all the things neither of them quite knew how to say. He held onto her like a lifeline, drawing strength from her presence, her patience, her unwavering belief in him.
When they finally broke apart, the stars stretched endlessly beyond the viewscreen. Somewhere out there, in the vast dark, the Vault waited.
But right now, in this moment, he had everything he needed.
“Ready?” Emma asked.
He took a breath. Let it out slowly.
“Ready.”
TheVagabondhummed to life around them, and they set course for the unknown.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
