Kaelen
The road hums beneath my bike, a steady rhythm that feels too alive for a dead land. Neutral territory stretches ahead. Charred fields, skeletal trees, the ghosts of a war we can’t quite bury. The drones that once carried missiles now scan for smugglers and trade caravans.
Even peace has its guards. I ride alone. No backup. No pack crest on my jacket. Just the wind, the scent of iron and pine, and the ghosts that never stop whispering. They whisper her name. Nyx. It’s been months since I last saw her.
Months since I told her the truth, I’d kept it buried under my ribs like a blade. I tell myself I’ve moved on, that my loyalty to her cause is enough, but it’s a lie that burns hotter with every mile. Because no matter how far I ride, I can’t outrun that night. The night Orion sol
