The air on Deck 4 was a toxic soup of smoke, sweat, slag, and the sharp, chemical tang of welding flux. Inelius worked in a state of focused panic, his entire world narrowed to the tangled mess of severed power cables spilling from the wall of the ruined elevator shaft. It had been eight hours since they'd crash-landed on Earth’s moon, eight hours of relentless, adrenaline-fueled work, powered by a steady drip of stimulants Brolgar had produced from some hidden corner of his galley stores.

  His three good hands worked with minds of their own—stripping insulation from a thick cable with one, calibrating a new power relay with another, and bracing the entire assembly against the buckled bulkhead with a third. His movements were fueled by a desperate, frantic energy that bordered on collapse.

  His lower right hand was a useless, throbbing ache. The knuckles were swollen to twice their normal size, the skin a dark, angry purple from where he'd repeatedly slammed it into the cockpit wall. Fractured or broken completely—who knew. He didn't care. The pain was dull and distant, a welcome distraction from the sharper agony coiling in his chest.

  He felt caught in a loop he had no idea how to escape from.

  Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it. The flash of the explosion. Raine's body flying backwards, barely caught as Aurania dove sideways to break her momentum. Her mangled, twisted limbs. The sparks—gods, the sparks. Every time the welding torch hissed behind him, every time a faulty wire spit a shower of white-hot light, he saw the sparks from her injured framework. He saw the life draining out of her.

  His own helplessness was a sick, black hole in the pit of his stomach. He gritted his teeth, forcing his focus back to the relay.

  Strip. Calibrate. Connect.

  Strip. Calibrate. Connect.

  The mantra was the only thing keeping him from screaming.

  Strip. Calibrate. Connect.

  Then he heard it. A faint, almost inaudible whisper, like a ghost in the static of the damaged ship.

  “Inelius…”

  He paused, a stripped wire held tight in his lower left hand. He shook his head, blaming it on the stimulants, on the grief, on the high-pitched whine of the failing power conduits playing tricks on his mind. He was going crazy.

  He went back to his work, his movements now a little less precise, a little more frantic.

  Then, her laugh. It wasn't a memory, it was too clear, too close. A soft, teasing giggle that seemed to come from the air itself. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push it away.

  It's not real. It's not real.

  He felt tears well in his eyes as he forced the grief down.

  "Oh yeah, Big Boy," the voice purred. It was clearer this time, more insistent, and undeniably her, vibrating the very deck plates beneath his knees. "Play with my wires. That’s the spot."

  He froze completely, his lungs refusing to operate for a heartbeat. He was going mad. His mind had finally broken. But then Amalia stopped working next to him and looked up, eyes wide with confusion. "Inelius... did you hear that?"

  His head snapped toward her, wild hope warring with the certainty of his own insanity. “You heard it too?”

  And then, it came through again, not from a comm panel, but from the walls, the ceiling, the very air around them. Raine giggled, her voice clear as a bell and filled with a warmth that was impossible to mistake. "I’m liking the sight of you down on your knees."

  He scrambled to his feet, his eyes darting around the ruined corridor, searching for a source that wasn't there. "Raine?!"

  "Hey, Babe." Her voice was a fond, teasing echo that seemed to come from everywhere at once. The ship pulsed with a gentle hum. The red emergency lights shifted to bathe the entire corridor in a soft, ambient pink—the exact shade of her eyes. The power cable he'd been fighting with sparked once, then fused together, a steady current now flowing through it.

  Across the room, Brana dropped a heavy torque wrench with a loud clang. She and Brolgar were staring at the ceiling, their mouths agape. Amalia and Aurania looked at each other, their faces a perfect mirror of dumbfounded awe.

  Inelius dropped everything, launching himself from the elevator shaft. His boots rang off the deck plates as he sprinted down the stairs in a controlled fall. He took the steps three, then four at a time, a storm of joy and confusion vibrating his entire body.

  He burst into the cargo hold, skidding to a halt near the workbench where Raine's body lay. Soren was there, just opening his eyes. He had been meditating next to her, sitting cross-legged and hovering in the air.

  "What the fuck is going on?!" Inelius demanded.

  The rest of the team clambered out of the staircase on his heels.

  "Raine is the ship now?!" Amalia yelled out.

  Soren looked from Inelius to the salvaged chunk of The Ghost Step. Inelius followed his gaze, seeing power cables, data cables, and pretty much any type of cable they had on hand all strung around the salvage like vines. But it looked like they had begun to physically meld with the ship's own systems, glowing faintly where the two technologies were beginning to integrate.

  "I guess so," Soren said, his voice filled with a quiet wonder. He looked at Raine's damaged body. "Raine?"

  There was no answer. The only sound was the steady hum of the ship's now-stable power core. A cold dread began to creep back into Inelius's chest. He took a step closer to the workbench, his voice trembling. "Princess Raine?"

  "Present," her voice replied, clear, confident, and coming from everywhere at once.

  Amalia whooped with joy. Brana let out a choked laugh, her hands on her head. Brolgar was smiling so wide that it crinkled the corners of his eyes. Inelius just stood there, hot tears tracing a path through the grease and grime on his cheeks.

  The sound of her voice was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

  Aurania stepped up, looking from Raine's body on the workbench to the glowing pink lights of the ship's systems. "Raine, what happened to you?"

  "I could ask the same of you, doll," Raine teased. "You take a hit down on Earth too? You're looking a little... beat up."

  An awkward beat of silence fell over the group as all eyes turned to Aurania's bruised and burned skin. She crossed her arms, her jaw tightening. Inelius had been wanting answers too, but they’d been too focused on fixing the ship, and Aura had been exceedingly tight-lipped.

  Soren broke the silence, his tone laced with shame. "I might have... taken a walk out the airlock." He wouldn’t meet anyone's eyes. "In self-pity."

  The silence turned tense.

  "Aurania followed me out," Soren added. "And pulled me back."

  The air in the cargo hold crackled with unspoken questions. Inelius stared at Aurania, then at Soren.

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  "Well," Raine's voice cut through the tension. "No one's perfect. But you did pull me back from the void, Soren, so I'd say you're worth keeping around."

  Soren looked up, his expression shifting from a mixture of surprise and relief to bashful and embarrassed. Inelius looked from Raine’s unconscious body to the giant, emotionally battered man who had just saved her life. He lunged and threw all four arms around Soren, burying his face in the man's shoulder, squeezing as hard as he could.

  “Aww,” Raine’s voice teased warmly. “You two are so cute."

  Inelius finally pulled back, wiping a hand across his wet cheeks. He looked from Soren's relieved face to the workbench.

  "Babe?" His voice was thick with emotion. "I don't even know what to say. What should we do with you?"

  "Just leave me hooked up," she replied, practical and reassuring. "We can figure that out later. Let's focus on getting this ship repaired."

  “You fully integrated?” Brana spoke up. “Can you accelerate the self-healing process?"

  "Yeah, for the most part," Raine answered. "I'm not entirely fused with the ship, but I've got my hands on the controls enough to help out. Give me a minute."

  The ship came alive. Any remaining emergency lights flickered out, the Aether Core vibrated through the entire deck, and all red warnings on the diagnostic terminals switched to green.

  Finally, Inelius thought, his shoulders feeling like a literal physical weight was lifted off them. Things are starting to look up.

  "Alright, you sexy worker bees," Raine's voice commanded. "Back to Deck 4. I could still use some manual help getting the starboard thruster back online before Soren dies of old age.”

  A renewed sense of purpose surged through the team. They began to move back toward the stairs, their despair replaced by determination. But before any of them even made it to the staircase, Soren staggered, a hand flying to his head.

  "Soren?" Aurania's hand flew to his arm to steady him. "What is it?"

  He flinched, a pained grunt escaping his lips as his eyes squeezed shut. "It's Violet. She just managed to... she reached out to me. Mentally."

  Amalia's eyes went wide. "What?!"

  His eyes locked onto her. "I know where they are. But the Conservatory ship is still in transit. We need to get moving. Now."

  "Raine!” Aurania's voice boomed through the cargo hold. “How much more do we need to get us flying?"

  "The supercharge to the Aether Core is helping me boost the healing," Raine replied. "But with the starboard thruster still offline… I'm not sure. A couple of hours, at least. Probably."

  "That's not good enough!" Amalia cried hotly, clenching her fists.

  A ripple of frustration went through the team, their newfound hope crashing against the quickly shrinking window.

  “Raine,” Brana spoke up, brow furrowed. "What if we were able to charge the Aether Core even more? Would that accelerate our timetable?"

  "Possibly, yes," Raine answered. "I could devote all available power to a minimal atmospheric shield and the main engines. Pour raw energy into the damaged thruster to get it to fire, even if it's rough."

  Soren shook his head with a pained expression. "I'm already tapped out, Brana, I've barely recharged. I wouldn't be able to—"

  "Yeah, yeah, shut up," Brana waved a dismissive hand at him. She was staring a thousand yards into the ceiling. "Raine! You’re hooked up to this crazy ass ship. You see anything in Enderfield's archives about how he can recharge?"

  Everyone looked at Brana like she’d just discovered fire.

  There was a long moment of silence, filled only by the hum of the Aether Core.

  Then, Raine slowly said, "I think I found at least one method. But... it's uh… it’s drastic."

  "Tick-tock, purple-hair!" Amalia snapped, her voice raw with nerves. "They're on a clock!"

  "The massive gravity of stars," Raine responded. "It creates a significant nexus of Aether Dust."

  A cold silence fell over the cargo hold.

  Soren recoiled, his brow drawing together. "Are you suggesting that I try to drain the Earth's sun? I've never even attempted something like that, let alone on that scale."

  "No," Raine's voice snapped sharply. "I'm suggesting you do drain the Earth's sun. We don't have time for that 'trying' bullshit."

  "Is that even possible?" Inelius asked.

  Soren looked at him, his features hardening with resolve. Without another word, he turned and started walking toward the airlock. "Only one way to find out."

  "Soren!” Aurania called out with alarm, starting after him. “Are you crazy?!"

  "Yes." He didn’t even break stride. When he reached the airlock door, he looked back over his shoulder at them, his eyes landing on her last. "Aurania. Don't follow me this time." He hit the control to open the inner door.

  "Soren!" She yelled again, more fierce than the last.

  He stepped into the airlock and locked eyes with her. "What?"

  She stopped, her chest heaving. Inelius could almost see a bolt of lightning hanging in the air between them.

  "Call me Aura."

  He was completely stunned.

  Then a slow, confident grin broke across his face as his hair and eyes began to glow. The white light intensified, and he didn't say anything back. He just held her gaze for a moment longer, then hit the control to seal the airlock. He grabbed the manual release, not even waiting for the depressurization before launching himself into the void. There was an electric moment of silence in the cargo hold, broken only by the hiss of the airlock.

  Then Aurania turned. "Everyone, up to Deck 4. Keep working, we're getting off this fuckin’ rock."

  Ten minutes later, Inelius was back in the elevator shaft, his hands furiously attacking the ship’s guts as he worked alongside Brana and Amalia. The air was still thick with the smell of scorched metal, but the mood had shifted from despair to a kind of desperate, high-wire hope. Aurania stepped away from the support she had been bracing and nearly dropped to one knee, a solemn look dawning across her face.

  “Holy shit,” she muttered. Her head snapped up, her newly golden eyes wide with an expression he couldn't read—awe, maybe, or terror.

  "Aura? What is it?" Inelius asked, his heart skipping a beat.

  "He's doing it," she whispered. "I can feel him. He just... connected to it."

  "Then get to the cockpit," Brana said. "Inelius, you go too. We’ve got this."

  Inelius nodded once, then met Aura's gaze. They sprinted for the cockpit, a sense of cosmic dread and anticipation propelling them up the stairs. They burst into the cockpit, finding it bathed in an ambient pink. The lights of the consoles and the trim along the viewscreen were all glowing the hue of Raine's eyes. She had the sun centered on the main viewscreen, the stellar filters engaged, allowing them to stare directly at the star.

  It looked completely normal—a steady, unwavering ball of fire.

  “Fuck—” Aurania groaned, leaning against the co-pilot's chair. She pushed off and started pacing. “Why does it look normal? I can feel him pulling from it right now.” Her hand flew to her head as she grimaced.

  "Raine, how far are we?" Inelius asked. "How long for the light to reach us from that distance?"

  "Distance is approximately 94 million miles," she replied calmly. "At the speed of light, we have a temporal lag of eight minutes and twenty seconds." A heavy silence fell between them. They were watching a star, knowing their friend was draining it at this very moment. But they were waiting for the past to arrive.

  The seconds ticked by, each one an eternity. Inelius’s leg started bouncing again, a frantic, uncontrollable rhythm against the deck plates. Aurania flexed her hands, breaths growing steadily more shallow. Her eyes stayed locked on the sun.

  Just over a minute later, it happened.

  The sunlight flickered.

  Once, twice, three times—like a faulty light bulb. Then again, quicker but not as intense. It didn't go out, but for a few seconds, the star seemed to dim, its brilliant white light momentarily fading to a sick, weak yellow. The light in the cockpit dimmed in concert, the pink glow of Raine's systems suddenly the brightest thing around them.

  Then, just as suddenly, the star stabilized, but it was noticeably less bright than before. In the center, a single, bright pinprick of light remained. It began to grow, an incandescent point of energy detaching from the surface of the sun.

  “Holy fuck…” Aurania gasped, leaning hard against the co-pilot’s chair.

  The blinding light streaked across the blackness of space, moving with physics-defying speed. It arced slightly to the side as it accelerated, undeniably flying right toward them. The entire ship began to vibrate, as if they were sitting in a rickety building next to a freight train moving at full speed.

  And then he was in front of them.

  Inelius stared, his eyes straining, his mind unable to process what he was seeing.

  Soren was a living star, a supernova of white-gold energy. The light he emitted was so bright it forced the viewport's filters to their maximum setting, and still, it was almost too much to bear. He hovered directly in front of the cockpit, willing himself through the void—a god returned from the heart of a sun.

  He raised a single palm toward the ship.

  A torrent of golden energy flowed from his hand, a river of liquid starlight washing over the ship’s hull. The systems surged, the consoles flaring as every damaged system, every frayed conduit, every broken relay was flooded with a power beyond comprehension.

  "Oh, fuck yeah!" Raine screamed in an ecstatic overload, like he'd just given her a direct injection of adrenaline and cocaine. "That's that good shit!"

  Inelius saw Soren’s lips move, speaking where there was no air to transmit sound. But his voice came through anyway, a deep, ethereal bass vibrating through the entire ship.

  “Let’s go get our friends.”

  Inelius felt the sound in his very bones.