Star Zaraki:

  October 30, 2025

  23:38 EST

  Lyconotu Manor,

  Pigeon Forge, TN

  I sat in the center of mine and Cayro’s bed, staring at my wedding dress like it was a relic from another life. For the first time in a long time, I felt completely out of place.

  The silence pressed against my ears, thick, heavy, unmoving. On the Autumn, there was always a hum beneath my skin, the constant rhythmic pulse of a ship alive with purpose. Here? Everything was too still. The stars outside the window weren’t shifting, weren’t moving past like they should have been. I wasn’t moving.

  I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way my chest tightened, how the quiet felt wrong.

  From the bathroom, I could hear Cayro undressing, the shuffle of fabric, the clink of his belt, the faint creak of the shower door. My lips twitched at the memory of him chasing me through the woods after I nailed him with the cake. He had given up trying to return the favor after ten minutes of running at full speed—coward. Instead, we had spent fifteen minutes rolling through the dirt like a couple of feral kids, tackling, wrestling, laughing.

  It was perfect.

  For once, it was just us being us. No expectations, no war, no history weighing us down. Just Star and Cayro. It had been so long since I’d felt that free—so long since I had played like that, just existed without having to survive.

  I closed my eyes, my fingers tightening against the fabric of my shorts. What if Cayro had grown up with me on the Autumn?

  That thought struck deeper than I expected.

  If he had been with me from the start, we would have… Built skyboards together, testing designs in the hangar Snuck into restricted areas just to see what secrets the ship held. Raced down metal corridors, daring each other to go faster, jump farther. Laid on the glass panels at night, staring at the stars while the world below passed beneath us.

  I could almost hear his voice from some alternate reality, laughing at me, saying, “Race you to the bridge, Starlight.”

  A sharp ache twisted in my chest. I missed the Autumn.

  It hit me all at once—the weight, the deep and suffocating homesickness. I had been so caught up in everything—the wedding, the fight, the war ahead—that I hadn’t let myself feel it. But now, sitting here, the reality of it pressed down like a weight on my ribs.

  I grew up in the sky, free, able to go anywhere in the world at any time. Down here? I was grounded. The trees weren’t clouds, the mountains weren’t shifting continents beneath me. Everything felt… caged.

  And worst of all?

  The crew should have been here.

  Tiffany should have been fixing my hair, fussing over every detail, making sure I didn’t leave my quarters looking like a disaster. Captain Andrew should have been standing beside me, giving me away. Instead? They had watched from a screen. Separated by distance. By circumstances I couldn’t control. It wasn’t fair. I swallowed against the lump in my throat, blinking fast to push away the sting of tears. I needed to hear his voice.

  "Scuzball."

  “Ah,” his voice crackled to life in my implant, sharp and amused. “If it isn’t the walking, talking embodiment of bad decisions and even worse impulse control. What can I do for you, oh unpredictable one?”

  Despite the weight in my chest, a grin tugged at my lips. Asshole.

  “Can you contact the Captain for me?” I asked.

  “Oh, if you insist…” he sighed dramatically. The connection shifted, a soft ringing echoing in my mind—a new addition to his system, meant to reassure me that the link was going through.

  A moment later, the ringing stopped.

  “Hey, Star.”

  Just two words.

  Two words in that calm, steady, unshaken tone, and the dam inside me nearly cracked.

  “Hey,” I managed, gripping the hem of my shorts, my fingers twisting the fabric.

  A pause.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked, voice laced with concern.

  I forced myself to breathe. “Yeah.”

  A longer pause. He wasn’t convinced.

  “Big night tonight,” he said patiently.

  I swallowed. “You could say that.”

  "Are you having second thoughts? We all watched from the bridge while that infernal AI streamed for us."

  I could hear the Captain’s usual dry amusement, but there was a question buried in the statement.

  "No, it’s not that," I said, my voice still distant, my answers short.

  "Then what’s wrong?" His tone softened, picking up on my hesitation.

  I took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out slowly. "I miss you guys."

  There was a pause before he responded, as if he had been expecting me to say something else. "Oh, Star… we miss you too. Things haven’t quite been the same without you here."

  His words only made the ache in my chest worse.

  "Captain… Andrew…" I started, biting my lower lip, debating whether or not to say what was really pressing on my mind. Finally, I just let it slip. "I feel lost. And in a way… I feel trapped."

  I heard the faint shuffle of movement on his end as if he was adjusting his position.

  "What do you mean? Are you regretting marrying Cayro?" he asked, the concern in his voice cutting through the static.

  "NO!" I said sharply, before forcing myself to ease back. "It’s not that. I just… I feel trapped because I’m not there, on the Autumn, with you, Tiffany, and the crew. I don’t like being on the surface."

  "Ah," he exhaled, a sound of understanding rather than surprise. "I see what you’re getting at. You feel claustrophobic. Surrounded."

  "Yes," I admitted, the word leaving me like an exhale of truth I had been holding in too long.

  "That makes sense," he said, echoing my own thoughts back at me. "You grew up on the Autumn, away from normal civilization. Now, you're constantly around people you don’t know, stuck in one geographical area for the first time in your life. You’ve spent your entire life traveling, never staying in one place for too long, seeing things most people never get to see."

  "Yeah," I murmured.

  "I’m honestly surprised you’re only starting to feel this now," he pointed out.

  "It’s the first time I’ve had the space to think," I admitted. "I’ve been dealing with one crisis after another, barely stopping to breathe. But tonight… for the first time, Cayro and I were just us. Running through the woods, playing like we used to. Now that we’re home, everything just feels so… surreal."

  "It would," he said knowingly. "You just got married. On top of that, you’re carrying the weight of being hunted, the constant pressure of survival. No nineteen-year-old should have to go through what you and Cayro are dealing with."

  His words carried the weight of something unspoken, a depth of guilt that had been settled in his bones long before this conversation.

  I hesitated before asking the one question that had been clawing at me since the moment I called him. "...Are you and Tiffany upset that I married Cayro?"

  The silence stretched. For a long moment, I wasn’t sure he was going to answer. Then, finally, his voice returned, quiet but firm.

  "No. Honestly, I’m glad you found someone you can share your life with. If anything, I think Cayro is probably your best match. Out of anyone on this planet, he’s the only one who truly understands what you’ve been through."

  I felt a lump form in my throat.

  "If anything," he continued, "Tiffany and I are only upset that we couldn’t be there in person."

  I swallowed hard. "I’m sorry, Captain." The words were barely above a whisper.

  "Star," his voice came softer now, weighted but not scolding. "You shouldn’t be sorry. The situation is out of your control. We made the choice to protect you and Cayro. That choice came with consequences—including not being there for moments like this. Our fates were sealed a long time ago. Me, Tiffany, and the crew… we knew what we were doing. And we don’t regret it."

  His next words struck deeper than I was ready for.

  "We are all proud of you."

  The breath I had been holding finally slipped from my lips. I leaned back against the headboard, closing my eyes as his words settled in my chest, making the weight feel just a little lighter.

  But even as I exhaled, one last question kept circling in my mind.

  "Would you have allowed Cayro to grow up with me on board the Autumn?" I asked carefully.

  For the second time during the call, the Captain went silent. I waited, listening to the sound of the shower turning on in the bathroom. My gaze drifted to the half-open door, half-expecting to see Cayro standing there, quietly eavesdropping. But he wasn’t. The silence on the line stretched, and then, finally, the Captain answered.

  "No, Star. I wouldn’t have allowed Cayro to grow up on the Autumn. But not for the reasons you’re thinking."

  I frowned. "Why not?"

  "The whole point was to keep the two of you separated as a form of protection. The Autumn was a target, and so was your father. The best way all of us could protect you and Cayro was by separating the puzzle pieces."

  Puzzle pieces?

  "What do you mean?" I asked, my curiosity sharpening.

  The Captain exhaled, like he was gathering his thoughts. "Hmm… How do I explain this? You, Cayro, the Autumn, your father, Captain Bracton, and the C Drive—you’re all pieces of a much bigger puzzle. Each piece, by itself, holds a dangerous amount of information. But when you put all those pieces together? You get something far more powerful. Something the U.S. government wants."

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I leaned back against the headboard, letting his words sink in.

  "Keeping those pieces separated was a safeguard," he continued. "Not just to protect you, but to protect the world from what that information could cause. You and Cayro were considered the lowest risk pieces. Your father and Captain Bracton? The highest."

  His explanation made sense—logically. Compartmentalization. Separate the information, ensure no one has the full picture. But if that had been the strategy all these years, that meant something had changed. Why, after more than a decade, was the government trying to reassemble the puzzle?

  "Why now?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "After all these years, why does the government suddenly want this information?"

  The Captain went quiet for a long moment, his silence more telling than any immediate answer would have been.

  "To be honest, Star… I don’t entirely know," he admitted. "Unlike your father and Captain Bracton, I was never given the full picture. But after thirteen years of radio silence? After being ignored by the U.S. government for so long? I think something has changed. Some past ghosts have awakened, and now they’re looking for the information we have."

  His words sent a chill through me.

  "To be specific," he added, "having Sebastian Sirnic involved is very concerning. He and Captain Bracton have been rivals for as long as I’ve known them."

  I chewed the inside of my cheek, considering his words. He was right. This wasn’t just about the military suddenly wanting Cayro and me. It was bigger. Much bigger. I thought back over everything Cayro and I had uncovered recently, every conversation, every warning, and then—

  A name surfaced.

  "Captain," I said carefully, "what do you know about the Nact Society?"

  "The what?" His confusion was immediate.

  I hesitated. "Dr. Bracton mentioned them. Right after my father gave him a royal ass-beating about a week ago."

  A sharp bark of laughter burst through the comms.

  "Wait—your father and Captain Bracton got into a fight!?" The Captain sounded genuinely entertained.

  I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Yes."

  There was a beat of silence before he asked, "Who won?"

  I huffed. "My dad did."

  He chuckled. "Figures."

  "Can we focus on my actual question instead of the fight?" I grumbled.

  "Okay, okay…" His tone was still amused, but he sobered quickly. "To answer your question, no. I’m not familiar with the Nact Society. My role during the project was watching over the candidates, handling paperwork, and making sure Captain Bracton didn’t burn the whole operation to the ground. I wasn’t involved in any of the deeper research that he and your father were part of."

  His words confirmed something for me. The puzzle pieces were still scattered. Which meant Cayro and I were going to have to start putting them together—ourselves.

  I gnawed on my lower lip and exhaled slowly, frustration simmering just beneath my skin. Cayro and I needed information. We needed to know what we were really up against and, more importantly, how to take control of this situation. Right now, we were reacting instead of acting, always a step behind. Information was power. And without it, we were fumbling in the dark. It felt like the deeper we went, the darker the rabbit hole became.

  Four months ago, I thought I was just an enhanced human, a soldier with biotech woven into my body. But with everything we had uncovered, that truth had unraveled into something far more complicated. If we didn’t even know what we truly were, how were we supposed to protect ourselves?

  "Star? Are you still there?"

  The Captain’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.

  "Huh? Yeah, sorry… I was lost in thought," I admitted, rubbing my temple.

  A knowing hum came through the comms. "Why don’t I let you go so you can spend time with Cayro? Tonight is supposed to be a celebration, not a tactical briefing." His voice was calm, patient. "Give me a call tomorrow evening. Tiffany and the rest of the crew would love to talk to you, and if you have any more questions by then, I’ll do my best to answer them. Okay?"

  I exhaled slowly, trying to push down the gnawing tension in my chest. "Yeah… I’ll call tomorrow."

  "Good. We’re looking forward to it. You and Cayro have a wonderful evening, Star."

  The line cut out.

  The silence that followed felt heavier than before. I let my shoulders slump as I stared at my hands, the weight of everything pressing down harder than I could handle. I still felt homesick. If anything, the call had only made it worse.

  The sound of running water stopped. A second later, I heard Cayro’s wet footsteps padding across the bathroom floor. I glanced toward the door just as he stepped out, his skin still damp, his hair dripping, steam curling around him. Before I could say anything, he moved—fast, fluid, inevitable. In a blink, I was off the bed, scooped into his arms.

  A startled squeak left my lips. "Cayro—!"

  His emerald eyes locked onto mine, calm but determined. He didn’t speak as he carried me into the bathroom, my body soaking up the warmth from his wet skin.

  I expected him to throw me in the shower or tease me for spacing out. Instead, he set me down on the vanity—carefully, deliberately. Then, without hesitation, he reached for my sports bra, stripping it off in one swift motion before tugging my board shorts down.

  Normally, I’d be purring at the attention, melting under his hands. But right now, my mind was tangled in a storm of thoughts and emotions I couldn’t push away.

  I placed my palm against his chest, pressing him back gently. "Cayro, I’m not in the mood to play—"

  Before I could finish, he lifted a finger to my lips.

  "I can feel your sorrow, Star," he murmured, voice low and sure. "I’m not trying to play. I’m trying to comfort you."

  I blinked, thrown by the quiet certainty in his voice. His hand closed around mine, fingers threading through my own as he guided me toward the shower. He turned the water back on, letting it heat up, then nudged me forward. I hesitated, but stepped inside, letting the warm spray cascade over me. The water washed over my skin in steady waves, soothing the tension locked in my muscles. A moment later, I felt Cayro step in behind me. His arms slid around me, pulling me against his chest.

  At first, I hesitated. Then, slowly, I leaned back, resting the weight of my head against him. This was supposed to be our night, a celebration. But instead of happiness, I felt… disoriented. Unsteady. What was I supposed to do? How did I explain to my husband that I wasn’t in the right mindset to celebrate our wedding night?

  Cayro’s arms tightened around me slightly, grounding me. "Star, it’s okay," he said, voice rumbling deep against my back. "I get it."

  I stood there for a long moment before I turned in his arms, lifting my gaze to meet his.

  "Cayro," I whispered, my fingers curling against his damp skin. "This is all so surreal."

  Cayro let out a low chuckle before leaning his forehead against mine, his voice dropping into a whisper.

  "I know."

  But he wasn’t just touching me—he was anchoring me. The way he held me, the way his arms wrapped around me without hesitation… It wasn’t just comfort. It was a silent declaration. He had already decided—whatever weight I carried, he would carry it with me.

  I swallowed hard, pressing my forehead against his. "I don’t deserve you," I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

  He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, his expression unwavering, certain.

  "Yes, you do."

  I let myself lean into him completely, his warmth steadying me. The emotions pressing down on me were too much, too heavy, and I was at my limit. Everything was crashing in at once, and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.

  I took a deep breath, stepping back slightly, forcing myself to refocus. My hands curled into fists at my sides as I looked up at him.

  "We need to get ahead of all of this," I said, my voice sharper now, stronger. "Instead of just reacting to everything that’s happening. We need information."

  Cayro exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening in thought before he nodded. "I know… Lately, I’ve been thinking. And as much as I don’t want to—we need to talk to my father. He knows more than he’s telling us."

  I stared at him, shocked.

  He wanted to talk to Dr. Bracton?

  "Cayro, are you sure that’s a good idea?" I asked, my voice laced with disbelief. "He’s insane. You saw what he tried to pull tonight—"

  "I know," he cut in, his tone heavy, reluctant. "But do we really have a choice? We need information. I was thinking about approaching your father too. He has insights on what’s going on, and he might be able to fill in some of the missing pieces."

  I exhaled slowly, pressing my forehead against Cayro’s chest. This wasn’t just a conversation. It wasn’t just about getting answers. Talking to my father meant stepping into something deeper than either of us fully understood. And once we did… there would be no turning back.

  "Alright," I murmured. "But we talk to my father first. I trust him to tell the truth. I don’t trust Dr. Bracton one bit. He might be on our side, but something tells me he has his own agenda, and none of us know what it is."

  Cayro gave me a half-hearted smile, his hands settling on my hips. He stared into my eyes like he was looking straight through me, past the walls, past the armor.

  "I’m sorry my family is so screwed up," he muttered. "I doubt you ever imagined getting married to someone with this much of a mess attached to them."

  Something inside my chest cracked—not in pain, but in release. Like the pressure had finally pushed too far. I broke. Laughter erupted from me before I could stop it, my body bending forward as I completely lost control. Hysterical, full-bodied laughter.

  Cayro just stood there, watching me like I had finally snapped. "Babe…" His voice was equal parts amusement and concern. "Are you okay?"

  I gasped for breath, shaking my head. "Cayro, I never imagined getting married at all."

  His brows pulled together slightly.

  "I always saw myself alone," I admitted. "Single, on my own, always moving forward… That was, until I met you. Again."

  His lips parted slightly, something unspoken hanging in his expression, but before he could respond, I turned and grabbed the shampoo bottle. I barely had time to unscrew the cap before he plucked it from my hands.

  I blinked up at him. "Seriously?"

  Cayro ignored me. He squeezed shampoo into his palm, then leaned down to set the bottle on the floor before tilting his head toward me. I caught on quickly, my lips curling into a small smirk. Wordlessly, I turned, facing the shower wall. A moment later, his hands slid into my hair.

  I sighed as his fingers massaged my scalp, slow and deliberate, working the shampoo through my strands with an almost methodical precision. Bit by bit, I could feel the weight in my body lifting, dissolving under his touch. Cayro didn’t rush, didn’t tease. He just moved with steady, careful intent, his fingers combing through my hair, ensuring the shampoo stayed clear of my eyes.

  "What else is bothering you, my Astra Fera?"

  Cayro’s voice was a low, rumbling murmur, reverberating through the steam-filled shower like distant thunder.

  I opened my eyes, blinking slowly before tilting my head to look at him. "What did you call me?"

  He paused, his emerald eyes studying me for a moment before gently turning my head back around. His fingertips brushed against my jaw, soft, deliberate.

  "I called you my Astra Fera," he said, voice like smoldering embers. "It means wild star in Latin."

  I stood there, letting the name settle into my heart.

  Astra Fera.

  The words rolled off my tongue as I mouthed them silently, testing the way they felt. It fit. Like something I had always been, but had never known how to name. Cayro had given it a name. Closing my eyes again, I let the warmth of the shower soak through my skin, letting myself drift into the question he had asked.

  "I’m feeling homesick…" I finally admitted.

  He hummed, a deep, thoughtful sound that vibrated through my back where his chest was pressed against me. "Hmm… Missing the Autumn and the crew?"

  "Yes." The word felt heavier than I wanted it to.

  "Want to talk about it?"

  I gave a halfhearted shrug, the water cascading over my shoulders. "I miss feeling free. Being able to see the world as we traveled through the sky. I miss spending time with the crew—Tiffany, the Captain, everyone. I miss… everything I had before all of this happened."

  I hesitated, the words forming before I could stop them.

  "I wish you had grown up with me aboard the Autumn so we could have shared it together."

  A beat of silence.

  Then his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer, grounding me. His body radiated warmth, his presence solid, unwavering. For the first time in a long time, I felt… peace. The kind of peace that settled into your chest when you walked into your room after a long day, letting yourself finally breathe.

  Cayro rested his chin against my shoulder. "If we could live anywhere," he asked, "where would you want to live?"

  "In the sky," I answered without hesitation.

  A moment later, his lips brushed against the edge of my jaw, featherlight, deliberate. His hands slid lower, fingertips ghosting over my stomach. Sparks shot through me, igniting something deep in my core.

  "Then we’ll live in the sky, my Astra Fera," he murmured against my skin.

  The words fanned the fire already building inside me.

  Slowly, methodically, he rinsed the shampoo from my hair, his fingers massaging my scalp with careful, intoxicating precision. And then—his lips traced down my neck, his mouth trailing along my shoulder. A quiet moan slipped from me as I reached back, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. My body moved on its own, craving him, needing him.

  Bit by bit, he explored me, his hands mapping out every inch of skin, every touch leaving behind trails of heat. Soft mews and breathless moans escaped my lips, begging without words, my mind spiraling into a frenzy with every caress. I couldn’t resist any longer. I spun around in his arms, pushing him back against the shower wall.

  Grabbing one of his hands, I pinned it above his head, my body pressing flush against his. Without hesitation, I nipped at his neck, traced my lips along his jawline, savoring the taste of him. Bit by bit, I took what I wanted. Last time, he had been in control. This time, I wanted to be. And he let me. He gave himself over, letting me devour him, command him, take him.

  As the heat between us built to an all-consuming blaze, the water began to cool, sharp and biting against our flushed skin. With a sharp smack, Cayro turned off the water and swept me into his arms in one fluid motion. I barely had time to process before I was out of the shower, dripping wet, carried straight to our bed. I half expected him to toss me onto the mattress, to resume the battle for control, but instead, he did something unexpected.

  He turned, sinking onto the bed with me still in his arms, so that I was straddling him. His body pressed into mine, every line of him fitting too perfectly against me, as if we had been built to fit together. I expected his eyes to shift, to glow with that fierce, eerie yellow that came with his transformation. But instead, they blazed emerald, deep and endless, full of something I wasn’t sure I deserved.

  Cayro reached up, placing his hand above his head just like I had done in the shower. I traced my fingers up his arm, lacing them with his, anchoring myself to him. I allowed my body to take charge, shifting above him, owning this moment, this connection, this bond. When I leaned down and kissed him, it was everything. Not just hunger. Not just need. This kiss was devotion, eternity, gravity itself pulling us together, refusing to let go. A soft mew escaped my lips as his tongue slid against mine, igniting a new surge of fire beneath my skin. And in that moment, I knew—we were perfect for each other.

  Several hours later, I lay on my side, my body still trembling, still reeling from the storm we had created. Cayro was pressed against my back, his arm curled protectively around my waist, his breath slow and steady against my skin. His body radiated warmth, a contrast to the cool night air filtering into the room. I had lost count of the rounds. I had lost count of the times he had unraveled me, left me breathless and shaking. Every wave of pleasure had torn through me like fire, and yet I still felt hungry for more, desperate to drown in him again. But even in exhaustion, he didn’t let go.

  His hand rested over the lower part of my stomach, covering it, guarding it. I knew he didn’t realize what he was doing, but deep down, I did. A silent promise. A future neither of us had spoken of yet. I slid my fingers over his, tightening my grip as I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of him, of us. He was my Amor Vitae Meae. The love of my life.