The convoy rolled through the gates of Faction 12 just as dawn painted the sky in molten gold and rose, the sun—unfiltered, unashamed—spilling over the compound like liquid hope. The orange haze was gone. The air tasted clean, sharp, alive. Soldiers who had spent years behind masks and filters stepped out blinking, mouths open, eyes wide at the impossible blue above.
A roar rose from the walls.
"Captain's back!"
"The sky—look at the sky!"
"Renault—he's *human* again!"
Men and women poured from barracks and watchtowers, clapping, shouting, some openly weeping. They slapped Axton's shoulders, reached to touch Ren's unmarked skin as if to confirm the miracle. Rhys, Kael, and Corvin stood on the vehicle's ramp, arms slung around each other, grinning like fools while the crowd chanted their names.
Axton lifted Ren off the ground in a single motion, carrying him through the crush of bodies. "Home," he said against Ren's ear, voice rough with pride. "Our home."
