The medical bay burned white.
Not warm.
Not comforting.
Bright enough to leave nowhere for shadows to hide.
Every surface reflected it—the steel rails, the glass partitions, the polished floor—turning the room into a place where even the smallest habits became impossible to ignore.
Thane sat upright on a bench near the wall, scratching absently at his beard. The motion was irritated, restless. He hadn't shaved. No one had told him to. No one had thought to.
Jax stood near the counter with a paper cup of coffee in his hand. At least his fifth. He sipped without tasting it, eyes distant, posture straight out of habit rather than alertness.
Dr. Nina leaned over a tablet, chewing on the cap of her pen as she reviewed patient scans. She didn't notice she was doing it. She never did.
And Weaver—
Weaver was losing another argument to Cassidy Firewell.
"Why can't I make a prototype thread?" Cassidy demanded, hands thrown up as if the answer might fall out of the ceiling. The wrap had finally come off her head, though faint bruising still shadowed her temple. "Think about it—portable, adaptive, high-tensile—"
Weaver pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I've told you this," he said, voice tired but firm. "They are too dangerous for anyone to use. Especially you."
Cassidy's mouth dropped open.
Thane turned his head away, shoulders shaking.
"Dangerous?" Cassidy shot back. "Or are you just afraid mine might be better?"
Thane snorted before he could stop himself.
Weaver opened his mouth—
And then the light caught something else.
On the central medical bed, Rose's fingers twitched.
Her eyes fluttered beneath closed lids.
The faint sky-blue tattoos along her arms and collarbone pulsed once—soft, uncertain—then began to glow a little brighter.
Nina straightened instantly.
"Everyone," she said, already moving. "She's awake."
The argument evaporated.
Weaver and Cassidy were at her side in seconds. Thane and Jax approached more slowly, careful not to crowd.
Rose's eyes opened—then closed—then opened again, blinking rapidly as she tried to reconcile the brightness with consciousness.
Her throat worked.
"…guys?" she croaked.
The tension in the room broke all at once.
Cassidy took her hand, grip gentle but firm, cold metal of the bed frame warming beneath her palm.
"Hi, honey," Cassidy said softly. "How you feeling?"
Rose pushed herself up slightly, then winced.
Nina placed a steadying hand on her shoulder.
"Easy," she said. "You're still recovering. Just lie back and rest."
Rose obeyed, exhaling sharply.
"I feel like shit," she muttered, eyes drifting to a bottle of water on the tray.
Nina noticed immediately and passed it to her. Rose drank fast, too fast, then coughed and lowered it, breathing hard.
"Did we win?" she asked, voice steadier now. "Last I remember… Allium was pure white."
Weaver answered carefully.
"He entered full Overload," he said. "He managed to drive Varos back."
Cassidy tilted her head.
"'Drive him back' is generous," she added. "More like turned a chunk of Solara into a glass floor and made a very hot Varos pancake."
Rose's eyes widened.
"Glass floor?" she repeated. "What does that mean?"
Weaver hesitated, then gestured toward the window.
"He wasn't himself," he said. "The new energy spoke to him. He released a blast to purge it."
Rose turned her head, trying to sit up again.
Nina pressed her back gently but firmly.
"No. Not getting up."
Rose huffed in frustration.
"I just want to see—"
Cassidy leaned in.
"What if she uses a wheelchair," she offered, "and I supervise?"
Nina gave her a look.
"Wheelchair," she said. "Yes. You supervising? Absolutely not."
Cassidy shrugged.
"Come on. I helped build half the equipment in this place. And honestly, it'd probably help her mentally."
Nina sighed, already defeated.
"Fine. A couple hours at a time. And I'm keeping her monitored."
Moments later, a hover-chair was brought in—sleek, suspended on soft repulsion fields instead of wheels. Weaver and Cassidy helped Rose transfer into it carefully.
Jax stepped back, already turning toward the exit.
"I need to report the Khelos and Varos incidents to Central," he said. Then, softer, "Good to see you awake, Rose."
Thane rose immediately, grabbing his jacket from the chair back.
"I'll walk with you," he said, voice rough.
Jax gave a short nod.
The two of them left together, boots echoing once before the doors slid shut behind them.
Weaver remained near Allium's bed, watching the monitors, waiting.
Cassidy guided Rose outside.
From the gardens of Solara HQ, the damage was impossible to miss.
Rose stared.
"…Where is the mountain?" she whispered.
Cassidy followed her gaze.
"He blasted it," she said quietly. "Along with the Temple."
She pointed upward.
The sky bore a scar—vast, dark, wrong. A circular void where stars should have been. Light bent around it, refusing to settle.
Rose swallowed.
"That's what Weaver meant…"
They rolled onward into the memorial gardens.
Gravestones stretched in orderly rows, grouped by sector. Names etched deep. Dates too recent.
"All we lost," Rose murmured. "This is too many."
Cassidy nodded, silent.
Rose's eyes lingered on one stone.
Lyra.
"I never knew her personally," Rose said. "But every time I saw her… she was looking at Solara."
Cassidy smiled faintly.
"She used to tell me I needed to be blessed every time I swore."
They sat in silence.
Then Cassidy moved the chair again.
"Rose," she said quietly. "I'd like you to meet someone."
They stopped before another marker.
SECTOR 9
Rose scanned the names.
One stood out.
Mari-Isla Firewell.
Rose looked up slowly.
"That's your last name," she said. "Was she… family?"
Cassidy nodded.
"She was my daughter."
Rose looked back at the stone, words failing her.
Finally, she said softly, "It's nice to meet you, Mari-Isla."
Cassidy's breath hitched.
"She was five," Cassidy said. "Dinner time was rough. But she tried so hard. Always wanted to help me with my gadgets."
Rose reached back and squeezed her hand.
"I miss her," Cassidy whispered. "That was my trial. I wanted you to know."
Rose held her hand tighter.
"Thank you," she said. "For letting me meet her."
The stones stood quietly.
Lyra.
Mari-Isla.
They would not be forgotten.
Not here.
Not ever.