Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The path down the mountain was treacherous, narrow enough in places that Rhyx had to turn sideways to navigate the gaps between weathered boulders. His boots—borrowed from Jeb, still slightly too small—scraped against loose scree as he guided Alina through the shadows of an ancient rockfall.
She is quiet.
He’d learned to read her silences over the past weeks.
This one was heavy, weighted with thoughts she wasn’t ready to share.
Her hand remained clasped in his, her grip tight enough that he could feel the flutter of her pulse against his palm, but her eyes were distant, focused on some inner landscape he couldn’t follow.
Behind them, the cave mouth had disappeared around a bend in the trail.
The samples were secured in Alina’s pack—carefully wrapped specimens of moss and vine, seeds and soil, preserved evidence of the miracle they’d discovered together.
Evidence that would change everything, if they could find the right people to share it with.
If they survived long enough to try.
The wind shifted, carrying with it the faint chemical tang of the processing facilities that dotted the planet’s surface.
Civilization. Safety. Danger. The words twisted together in his mind, impossible to separate.
What was safety for Alina might be death for him.
What was freedom for him might cost her everything she’d worked for.
With Martin gone, will she want to stay?
The thought had been circling since they’d left the ledge, since he’d watched her face as the bodies fell and seen something shift behind her eyes. Not horror—he’d expected horror—but something colder, more pragmatic. Acceptance, perhaps. Or resignation.
She’d chosen him. Chosen him over her colleague, her career, her comfortable certainties about right and wrong.
But choices made in moments of crisis didn’t always survive the return to ordinary life.
Once the immediate danger passed, once she had time to think, to process, to consider the magnitude of what she’d sacrificed…
Would she still want him?
The path widened slightly, opening onto a flat stretch of weathered stone that offered a brief respite from the climb. Rhyx paused, scanning the terrain ahead while Alina caught her breath beside him. Her face was flushed from exertion, a thin sheen of sweat visible at her temples despite the cold.
“Are you well?”
“Fine.” She managed a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just thinking.”
“About what happened?”
“About what happens next.” She looked up at him, her brown eyes searching his face for something he couldn’t name. “Rhyx, I need to ask you something.”
“Ask.”
“After everything that’s happened today… Do you still want me to stay with you?”
The question hit him like a blow to the chest. For a moment he could only stare at her, struggling to comprehend how she could doubt—how she could imagine, even for a moment, that he would want anything else.
“You are my mate.” The words came out rougher than he intended, scraped raw by emotions he didn’t have language for. “I will always want you to stay.”
“Even if it means hiding? Running? Never being able to live openly?”
“Even then.”
She nodded slowly, something easing in her expression. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
They continued down the mountain, the silence between them lighter now, more companionable.
The sun was beginning its slow descent towards the horizon, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose that reminded him of sunsets from another age—when the air had been thick enough to scatter light into brilliant colors, when the world had been alive with sounds and scents that existed now only in his fragmentary memories.
Home. This was home, once.
The thought brought with it a grief so vast he could barely contain it.
He’d lost everything—his people, his world, his very identity—and been reborn into a Mars that was simultaneously familiar and utterly foreign.
The mountains were the same, or near enough.
The canyons still carved their ancient paths across the land.
But the life that had once filled every corner of this world was gone, reduced to fossilized whispers and the impossible miracle of a single cave.
And yet.
He had Alina. He had purpose. He had the strange, unexpected gift of a second chance at existence, even if that existence was shadowed by danger and uncertainty.
It would have to be enough.
The path curved around a massive outcropping of iron-rich stone, its surface streaked with the dark red veins that humans called hematite.
Beyond it, the terrain leveled out into a shallow valley where the familiar shape of Jeb and Mattie’s habitat dome squatted against the landscape like a metal seed waiting to sprout.
Rhyx felt some of the tension drain from his shoulders at the sight.
Whatever else was uncertain, he trusted the big cyborg and his human mate.
They’d offered shelter without demanding explanations, assistance without expecting payment.
In a world where everyone seemed to want something from him, their simple kindness stood out like a beacon.
“Almost there.” Alina’s voice was tired but relieved. “We should be able to see the claim markers in another few minutes.”
“I know.” He could feel the vibrations of their approach through the ground—the subtle hum of the habitat’s life support systems, the deeper thrum of the mining equipment that sat idle near the dome’s entrance. “Someone is outside. Two people.”
“Jeb and Mattie?”
“Yes.” He would have recognized the cyborg’s heavy tread anywhere, even filtered through layers of rock and soil. “They’re watching for us.”
Sure enough, when they rounded the final bend, they found Jeb and Mattie waiting at the edge of the claim. The cyborg stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable, while Mattie hovered at his elbow with worry clear in every line of her body.
“Thank the stars.” Mattie rushed forward as soon as they came into view, wrapping Alina in a fierce hug that seemed to surprise them both. “When we heard the vehicles heading towards the mountains, we thought—we were afraid—”
“We’re fine.” Alina returned the embrace awkwardly, her pack bumping against Mattie’s shoulder. “It was close, but we’re fine.”
“You’re not fine.” Jeb’s voice was flat, his enhanced eyes scanning them both with the clinical precision of his cybernetic systems. “You’re covered in dust, your pulse is elevated, and you smell like copper and fear.”
“Jeb.” Mattie shot him a reproachful look.
“What? She said they were fine. They’re not fine. I’m just being accurate.”
Despite everything, Rhyx felt his lips twitch. The cyborg’s bluntness was oddly comforting—a straightforward contrast to the layers of deception and manipulation that seemed to characterize most human interaction.
“He’s right.” Alina stepped back from Mattie’s embrace, her shoulders squaring with visible effort. “We’re not fine. A lot happened today, and we need to talk about it.”
Jeb’s eyes narrowed. “Inside. Now.”
The habitat dome was warm and close, its filtered air carrying the faint scent of the protein supplements that seemed to comprise most of Mattie’s diet.
Rhyx settled onto the floor near the entrance, his back against the curved wall, while Alina took a seat at the small table across from their hosts.
“Start from the beginning,” Jeb said. “Don’t leave anything out.”
So Alina told them. About the GenCon vehicles, about the pursuit through the tunnels, about emerging at the cave opening only to find Martin and his guards waiting. About the confrontation, the knife at her throat, the moment of perfect terror when Martin had shoved her towards the ledge.
About the wings.
Jeb’s expression didn’t change throughout the recounting, but Mattie’s eyes grew wider with each revelation. When Alina finally fell silent, the little dome was thick with unspoken questions.
“Wings,” Jeb said flatly.
“Yes.”
“You’re telling me he can fly.”
“Yes.” Alina’s voice was steady, but Rhyx could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands had clenched together in her lap. “I saw it, Jeb. I felt it. He carried me out of there.”
“Show me.”
Rhyx hesitated. The memory of unfurling his wings was still fresh, still raw—a sensation so profound it had felt like returning to himself after centuries of absence. But the dome was small, its ceiling low, and the thought of releasing that part of himself in such a confined space felt wrong.
“Outside,” he said. “There is not enough room here.”
Jeb studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “Later, then. For now, I need to understand what happened to Martin and his guards.”
“They fell.” Alina’s voice was flat. “All three of them.”
“Fell.”
“Martin stumbled backward and went over the edge. The guards…” She paused, her throat working. “The guards were already dead when Rhyx moved the bodies. He made it look like they fell with Martin.”
Mattie made a small, distressed sound. Jeb’s expression remained impassive.
“You killed them,” he said, addressing Rhyx directly.
“Yes.” There was no point in denying it. “They threatened my mate. They would have captured or killed me to please their masters. I eliminated the threat.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
Rhyx considered the question carefully. Was he okay with it? The guards had been following orders, operating within the framework of loyalty and duty that he understood instinctively from his own fragmented memories. In another context, he might have respected their dedication.
But they had chosen to serve people who would have hurt Alina. Who would have used him as a specimen, a curiosity, a weapon. Their deaths were not something he celebrated, but neither were they something he regretted.
“I am… at peace with it,” he said finally. “They made their choices. I made mine.”