Raxorath.
The same shade. The same boundaries that refused to define themselves. The same window through which that nameless sky was visible — those moving dots — that thing which was not stars but occupied the space where stars should have been.
But this time, the room held only one thing.
The box.
It sat on the table. Small. Simple. From the outside, there was nothing remarkable about it. No decoration. No marking. Only — a box. One that held something so significant inside that understanding it fully was almost impossible.
Veyrath stood there.
Alone.
The door was shut. No one else was present. Only him — and that box — and the silence of Raxorath that was always enforced, always deliberate, always absolute.
Veyrath looked at the box.
For a long time.
For him, looking at something for long was unusual. He calculated fast. Everything. Every angle. But this time — there was something that was not simple. Something that existed outside his calculations.
He knew the box was meant for Rana.
But he was also Zaneath's son.
So the equation — was the same bloodline? Could he also access what was inside?
The equation remained incomplete. Variables that refused to fill.
Veyrath moved forward.
Slowly. Measured. As though the weight of every step had been decided in advance.
He reached the box. Extended his hand — paused for one second — then touched it.
Nothing happened.
He had known this would be the result. But knowing and experiencing are different things.
He used both hands. Held the box properly. In his eyes there was nothing — none of what appears in most people's eyes when they engage with something intense. Only — concentration.
And then —
The box opened.
What happened in the next few seconds — Veyrath had never anticipated.
A glow.
But the word glow was too small for it.
What emerged — it was not simply light. It was something else. Something that was felt — not in temperature — but in the chest. As though something inside was responding. As though a frequency existed — specific — meant only for specific people.
Veyrath looked — inside —
And —
Stopped.
The box closed.
On its own. As though it had decided.
Veyrath stood where he was.
One second.
Two seconds.
His hands — which had never trembled — which had always remained perfectly still — for one moment — they were not.
Then they were.
Then normal.
But that one moment —
That one moment existed.
Veyrath placed the box back on the table. Slowly. Deliberately. As though setting it down quickly would break something — but what that something was — even he could not have named it.
He turned toward the window.
The sky of Raxorath was the same. Those moving dots. That nameless shade.
But Veyrath —
Veyrath was different.
For the first time — in his eyes — that void which was always there was not. Something else was. Something that was different this time. Something that could not be conveyed by a name. But it was there.
He stood there — for quite some time — only looking at the sky.
And said nothing at all.
And on Zyphoros —
It was night.
Rana sat alone. Against a broken wall. The smog of Zyphoros hung above. It was dark — but not completely — as though even the night was afraid to arrive here in full.
The figure was far. Xyolithian was farther still.
Rana's hands rested on his knees.
I am ready.
He had said it. Xyolithian had heard it. Had nodded.
But was it true?
Rana looked at his own hands. Those same hands — that had once helped Riya practice her presentation in college. That had once handed a cup of tea to their mother in the kitchen. That had once —
"Bro — if I top tomorrow — the treat is on you."
That line returned.
Right now — in this moment — it was so real that it felt like she was here. Close. That reaching out a hand would find her.
But she was not here.
She was on Earth. At home.
Rana closed his eyes.
Inside —
There were two parts. Heart and Mind.
Heart: This is not right. She will not agree. She does not even know anything.
Mind: There is no other way. The box is with Veyrath. Leader is on Raxorath. If nothing is done — everything ends.
Mind again: Ryvok gave his life. Did he know he would die?
Heart: No. Ryvok did not know.
Silence.
This time the heart could not produce a strong answer.
Because the mind had asked a question that had no answer. Ryvok had not known. He had been given no choice.
So shall I do the same to Riya?
Give her no choice either?
Rana was trapped between his heart and mind, unable to decide what to do, lost in conflicting thoughts, questioning every choice, unsure which path was right or what consequences awaited him.
The figure's words came back —
"Tell Riya. Let her decide for herself. What was wrong in what happened to Ryvok — was that he was given no choice."
Rana opened his eyes.
The sky was the same. The smog was the same.
Her choice. Not mine.
She is my sister. She is strong. If she decides — who am I to stop her.
But if she does not — then?
Then I will find another way. But first — she has to be told. The truth has to be told. All of it.
Rana drew a slow breath.
The right to hear the truth — that belongs to everyone.
And on Earth —
It was night.
Riya was asleep.
The same home. The same room. The same window through which she watched the road. The window was shut now. The curtains were drawn. Everything appeared normal — from the outside.
Inside —
In Riya's dream —
There was something.
It was not the kind of place that feels familiar in dreams. There was no home. No school. Nothing recognisable.
Only —
There was a place. One that did not feel entirely like a dream, but did not feel real either. No walls. No ceiling. Only an existence — not comfortable — but not dangerous.
And in that place —
Someone was there.
Different somehow.
Riya looked at them — and for the first time in a dream — she was confused. She saw the face and it was Rana — Rana's face — his voice — his height — everything was the same.
But something —
Was different.
This was not the Rana from college. Who walked casually through corridors. Who teased juniors. Who scrolled through his phone lying in bed.
This Rana —
This Rana was different. As though he was there — but not entirely. As though there was something in him she had not seen before. Something heavy. Something decided. Something that — perhaps — wanted to say something —
But in dreams, words do not always come.
Riya reached her hand forward —
And the dream —
Broke.
Eyes opened.
Riya was there. In her own room. In her own bed. Curtains drawn. Everything normal.
But that feeling —
It was there.
As though something was close. Right now — in this moment. As though something existed that —
Riya closed her eyes. Then opened them.
Nothing was there.
Only the night.
But that feeling —
Rana.
Only that one word. It came from inside. There was no sound outside. No one was there. Only that word.
Riya looked toward the window.
It was dark outside.
She lay back down. Her eyes remained open. She looked at the ceiling.
Something was there.
For now — she told herself — this much I know.
And on Zyphoros —
The figure arrived.
Silently. As though it was part of the air itself.
Rana looked toward it.
"You are thinking," the figure said — it was a statement.
"Yes," Rana said.
The figure came closer. Sat — beside him. Some time passed without either speaking.
"Riya will need to have a choice," Rana said quietly — as though confirming something to himself.
"Yes," the figure said simply.
"And if she does not choose to?"
"Then you will find another way."
"But right now there is no other way."
"Not right now." The figure paused for a moment. "But Rana — first tell her the truth. The whole truth. Do not hide anything. She is strong. She has always understood more than you gave her credit for."
Rana looked toward the figure.
Those blue eyes — which were so familiar now — which knew so much —
"You know her?" Rana asked.
"I know you," the figure said simply. "And you know her. So I know her."
A pause.
"Go," the figure said. "The time has come."
Rana stood up.
Slowly.
And once — only once — he looked at the sky of Zyphoros. That broken planet. That place where so much had happened. Where Xyolithian was. Where Leader had been. Where so much remained unresolved.
Zaneath.
Ryvok.
What both of you did — you did it for this moment.
And I —
I have not yet reached where I need to.
Rana turned.
Xyolithian was there — from a distance — approaching. He glanced once at the figure — a silent exchange — then looked toward Rana.
"Are you ready?" Xyolithian asked.
"I —"
Rana paused.
Inside, those two parts were still there. Still arguing. Questions remained. Answers had not come.
But —
No one is ready for something like this.
But no one is ready — and still does it.
That difference — it comes from only one thing.
Rana drew a slow breath.
"Yes," he said. "I am ready."
This time — those words were different. The previous I am ready had carried force. A kind of bravado. Something that had not come from the inside.
This time —
This time it was straight. Quiet. As though someone had — finally — accepted something heavy. Not with joy. Not with excitement. Only — with acceptance.
Xyolithian looked at Rana for one moment.
Then nodded.
Slowly.
He did something — that Rana had not seen before. A specific gesture — hand and a specific movement — and in the smog of Zyphoros — something happened.
The air shifted.
In a specific place — an opening appeared that had not been there before. It was not the same as what had been in the warehouse. Not the familiar shimmer. This was different — as though Xyolithian had his own method entirely.
"Go straight," Xyolithian said. "When you arrive — tell the whole truth. Hide nothing."
Rana nodded.
He looked once toward the figure.
The figure said nothing. But those blue eyes — they were there. They were always there.
"I will return," Rana said — not to the figure — to himself.
And he moved forward.
Toward Earth.
Passing through the portal — that sensation — the one that had always come — arrived again. But this time it was different. Before it had been sudden. Unexpected. This time — he knew what was coming. And knowing — it felt different.
And then —
Earth.
It was night.
The same air. The same scent. The thing that does not exist on alien planets. The thing that exists only on Earth. The thing that feels like home.
Rana closed his eyes once — absorbed this feeling — then opened them.
A road lay ahead.
That road.
Near that place — the familiar one — the one that had always been there — the one that had been there even when he came home late — bag on one shoulder — a little casual.
Home was visible. From a distance. But visible.
The lights inside were off. At this hour of the night — everyone would be asleep.
Riya too.
Rana took one step forward.
Then stopped.
She will be asleep. Disturbing her is not right.
But she might be awake too. Sometimes she wakes at night.
Rana stood there — looking at the house — across that distance — which was only a few steps — but which felt like something else entirely.
Something inside —
Wanted to say — you are here. Everything will be fine.
But Rana knew — whether everything would be fine or not — that was not yet known.
It would only be known —
When Riya learns the truth.
When she decides.
Rana looked once at the sky — Earth's sky — so different from Zyphoros's sky. Here there were stars. Real stars. That had always been there.
Zaneath. Ryvok.
I have arrived.
The rest is with you.
And he moved forward —
Toward home.