Space did not explode.

  It folded.

  The moment Auren stepped out of the ship’s airlock, the stars bent inward like they were afraid to watch. Raelux floated opposite him—same silhouette, same stature—but twisted, as if reality itself had tried to recreate Auren from a memory that hated him.

  Raelux’s armor looked grown, not built. Veins of dark energy pulsed beneath translucent plating. His face—Auren’s face—was scarred wrong. One eye burned crimson. The other flickered, unstable, as if it didn’t quite belong.

  “You came alone,” Raelux said softly.

  Not mocking.

  Almost relieved.

  Auren didn’t answer.

  The silence stretched.

  Then Raelux laughed—a broken, cracking sound.

  “Still the same,” he muttered. “You never speak first. You always wait for the universe to blink.”

  He raised a hand—and space screamed.

  A shockwave detonated between them, throwing Auren backward through vacuum. He spun, caught himself, boots igniting with energy as he slammed to a stop.

  The crew watched from the ship’s viewport, helpless.

  Mira whispered, “This isn’t a battle… this is a mirror collapsing.”

  Auren surged forward.

  They collided.

  No flash.

  No explosion.

  Just impact—pure, brutal force.

  Their foreheads slammed together. Energy bled outward in ripples. Raelux grinned through clenched teeth.

  “Do you remember the words?” he hissed.

  “Bleed for me, brother.”

  Auren’s fist drove into Raelux’s ribs, cracking armor, folding him inward.

  “I never said them,” Auren growled.

  “They were carved into me.”

  Raelux roared and answered with a knee to Auren’s chest, launching him into a drifting asteroid. Stone vaporized on impact. Auren pushed himself free, blood floating in crimson spheres around him.

  Inside the ship, Lassie stirred.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Her eyes snapped open—not glowing this time.

  Human.

  Afraid.

  She sat up, clutching her head.

  “They’re hurting each other wrong,” she whispered.

  Tina rushed to her. “Lassie—don’t move—”

  “I have to,” Lassie said, standing despite trembling legs. “I didn’t finish what I started.”

  Outside—

  Raelux grabbed Auren by the throat and dragged him through space like a comet, slamming him into debris, shattered satellites, frozen wreckage from forgotten wars.

  “You don’t get to win,” Raelux snarled.

  “You left me there. You survived.”

  Auren coughed, gripping Raelux’s wrist.

  “I didn’t know you existed.”

  Raelux froze.

  Just for a second.

  That second saved Auren.

  He twisted, breaking the hold, elbowing Raelux across the jaw hard enough to spin him. Auren followed—fist, knee, headbutt—each strike desperate, grounded, human.

  They crashed into each other again, locked in a grapple, foreheads pressed together.

  Raelux’s voice dropped.

  “They told me you chose freedom over us.”

  “They lied,” Auren said.

  “They always do,” Raelux whispered.

  Something snapped inside him.

  Dark tendrils erupted from Raelux’s back—corrupted constructs, tearing through space, lashing toward the ship.

  “INCOMING!” Rix shouted.

  The crew moved instantly.

  This was their fight now.

  Rix rerouted power manually, frying tendrils with raw engine output.

  Mira hacked one mid-flight, reversing its energy flow—detonating it from the inside.

  Tina climbed onto the hull in a magnetic suit, firing pulse rounds point-blank, screaming curses into the void.

  And Lassie—

  Lassie stepped into the cockpit.

  She placed her hands on the control panel.

  Closed her eyes.

  And spoke.

  Not runes.

  Not spells.

  Just a whisper.

  “I’m still here.”

  The ship answered.

  Every system surged beyond safe limits—not from code, but from something older. The ship’s hull shimmered, etched briefly with faint symbols that vanished as soon as they appeared.

  Outside, one of Raelux’s tendrils hesitated.

  Then turned away.

  Raelux felt it.

  He screamed—not in rage, but in confusion.

  “She can’t do that!” he shouted.

  “They said she was insignificant!”

  Auren seized the opening.

  He drove his fist straight through Raelux’s chest.

  Not to kill.

  To reach.

  Raelux froze, staring down at Auren’s arm buried inside him.

  Auren leaned close and spoke quietly, urgently:

  “You’re not my enemy. You’re my consequence.”

  Raelux’s voice broke.

  “I didn’t ask to be born screaming.”

  “I know,” Auren said.

  For the first time, Raelux didn’t fight back.

  But then—

  Something else moved inside him.

  A deeper voice layered over his own.

  “Connection detected.”

  “Correction required.”

  Raelux screamed as black chains erupted from his spine, pulling him backward.

  Auren tried to hold on.

  Failed.

  Raelux was dragged away, screaming—not Auren’s name—

  —but Lassie’s.

  The chains snapped shut, vanishing into nothing.

  Silence returned.

  Stars steadied.

  Auren floated alone, shaking, blood drifting from his knuckles.

  Inside the ship, Lassie collapsed to her knees.

  Mira stared at her in horror.

  “…Lassie,” she whispered, “what are you?”

  Lassie looked up—tears streaming.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “But whatever took Raelux… it knows me now.”

  Auren returned to the ship slowly.

  When he stepped inside, no one spoke.

  He walked straight to Lassie and knelt in front of her.

  “You saved us,” he said.

  She shook her head.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “I think I just told the universe where we are.”

  The ship drifted onward.

  Not lost.

  Hunted.