Chapter 187: Unlikely Friends
The observation deck was quiet.
From here, the stars looked close enough to touch—lines of silver drifting past the Nova Sanctum's hull as it cut through space. Lucian stood with his hands behind his back, eyes fixed on the horizon, though his mind wasn't on the stars.
He didn't hear Karl come in at first. The man didn't walk so much as drag himself, boots scuffing against the steel. His ribs were still bound in rough bandages, scales cracked and patched with dried fire. But his grin was in place, even if it looked more tired than sharp.
"You always stare out like you own the whole damn sky," Karl said, leaning against the rail. "Does it ever get old?"
Lucian glanced sideways, then back at the stars. "No."
Karl chuckled, though it turned into a cough. "Figures. You were always the quiet type. Not me. I don't shut up, even when I'm bleeding out." He spat into a rag and shoved it into his pocket.
Lucian let the silence stretch. Karl didn't mind. He never did.
"You know," Karl said, voice lower now, "if someone told me back then I'd be standing next to you like this… I'd have laughed in their face. Me, shoulder to shoulder with some stubborn academy brat who thought he could bend space? No chance."
Lucian finally looked at him. "And now?"
Karl smirked. "Now I think maybe I should've laughed less. Maybe I should've listened more." He shook his head. "We've been through hell, Lucian. Monsters, kings, me being your prisoner… and somehow, here we are. Still breathing. Barely."
A weight shifted on Lucian's shoulder. Kaelis, in his shrunken form, stretched his wings lazily. No bigger than a hawk now, though his eyes still burned gold. He tilted his head at Karl. "Barely is generous. You look like a corpse pretending to stand."
Karl shot him a glare. "Says the lizard who ran his mouth while I was doing the heavy lifting."
Kaelis yawned, unimpressed. "You call bleeding all over the throne 'lifting'? Interesting definition."
Lucian's lips curved faintly, though he didn't laugh.
Karl jabbed a claw at him. "Don't smirk at me, space-boy. You wouldn't even be here if I hadn't kept half the army off your back."
Kaelis's tail flicked. "Correction. He would still be here. You'd just be less loud about it."
Karl barked a laugh, though his chest hurt when he did. "You hear this? Your pet dragon doesn't respect me."
Lucian shook his head. "He doesn't respect anyone."
"Smart man," Kaelis said, settling deeper against Lucian's neck.
Karl grinned wider, though his eyes softened after a moment. He leaned heavier against the rail, his voice quieter now. "Jokes aside… I'm glad it was you, Lucian. Glad I fought beside you. Hell, I'm glad I even met you. You're not just some kid anymore. You've become… something else. Stronger. Smarter. Dangerous, in a good way."
Lucian's gaze stayed on the stars. "We're not finished."
"No," Karl admitted. "But I am."
That drew Lucian's eyes. "What do you mean?"
Karl's grin thinned. He looked down at his cracked hands, fire dim at the edges. "The monsters need me now. The crown's on my head, whether I like it or not. I can't follow you where you're going. My war's here, keeping them in line. Yours… it's out there." He nodded toward the stars. "Earth. Your sister. Whatever's waiting next."
Lucian was silent.
Karl gave him a lopsided grin. "Don't look at me like that. I'm not dying today. Just… choosing my battlefield." He tapped his chest. "And trust me, I'm better at burning than babysitting, but somebody has to keep the beasts from tearing holes again."
Kaelis snorted. "So the loud fool finally accepts responsibility. Miracles happen."
Karl flipped him off without missing a beat.
Lucian's lips twitched again, but his voice came steady. "You're sure about this?"
Karl nodded once. "Yeah. I'm sure. But before I go…" He pushed off the rail, straightening as much as his ribs allowed. "I want to say goodbye properly. Not to you—you're too stiff for that. To her."
Lucian's eyes softened faintly. He didn't stop him.
The sick bay was dim, lit only by the soft blue of the monitors. Lucy still lay under the sheets, pale, the faint markings on her skin glowing when her breath hitched.
Karl stood at the foot of her bed for a long time without speaking. His grin was gone, replaced with something quieter, heavier.
"You always gave me hell," he muttered, voice rough. "Never trusted me. Can't blame you. I'm not exactly the type you bring home to family dinners." He let out a short laugh that didn't last. "But you fought like no one else. You held the line when everyone else broke. And you… you reminded me why I kept fighting, even when I wanted to quit."
He dragged a hand across his jaw, sighing through his teeth. "You won't remember this when you wake up. Maybe that's for the best. But I wanted to say it anyway."
He leaned forward, placing his scarred hand gently on her blanket. "Goodbye, Lucy. Don't die before he drags you back to Earth. He'd never forgive me."
He straightened, fire flickering faint around his shoulders. His molten eyes lingered on her one last time, then he turned and left the sick bay without another word.
Back on the bridge, Lucian stood before the console. The stars stretched wide through the glass. His hands moved across the keys, steady despite the weight pressing against his chest.
"Alfred," he said.
"Yes, captain?"
"Set a course for Earth."
The engines shifted, the hum beneath the floor deepening as the Nova Sanctum turned. The stars outside bent, sliding across the glass as their new path locked in.
"Course locked," Alfred confirmed. "Estimated time to arrival: seventy-two hours."
Lucian stood in silence, his hand resting on the console. Kaelis stretched his wings faintly on his shoulder, his voice low. "The fool chose his path. You chose yours. Now we see which burns longer."
Lucian didn't answer. His eyes stayed fixed on the horizon, on the faint blue light of the distant world waiting for him.
Behind him, the sick bay door sealed shut around Lucy.
Somewhere far across the realms, Karl sat a broken throne, fire in his veins, monsters at his feet.
And aboard the Nova Sanctum, Lucian steered into the storm—knowing their goodbye was final.