Ava's POV
It was like floating in a haze, caught between worlds. I drifted through a series of fragmented memories—lucid dreams that felt too real to ignore.
I was a child again, standing in a vast field, the sun warm on my face. My small fingers stretched out, and there, hovering just above my open palms, was a ball of deep purple light. It pulsed gently, almost like it was alive, flickering with an energy that I couldn't yet understand. I stared at it in awe, feeling its warmth seep into my skin.
A voice cut through the stillness. My father. His silhouette loomed in the distance, his face calm but serious. He watched me with those familiar deep blue eyes that I inherited.
"When you're ready," he said, his voice soft but resonant, "you'll know what it means."
The scene shifted, blurring at the edges. I was no longer in the field. Instead, I stood in front of a mirror, my tiny eyes reflecting a deep blue light that swirled within them. The purple orb hovered still, but this time it felt more intense, almost urgent. It was as if it was waiting—waiting for me to understand, waiting for me to act.
Then, just as the tension reached its peak, I was pulled from the dream.
***
I gasped awake, my eyes snapping open, my breath sharp and uneven. The sterile scent of the hospital hit me immediately, and the rhythmic beeping of the machines beside my bed reminded me of the reality I had returned to. My body ached, a sharp reminder of the attack we barely escaped.
Slowly, I turned my head, and there he was—Orion Blake, sitting in a chair next to my bed, his arms crossed and his eyes focused on me with a mix of intensity and concern. His presence was… grounding. There was something about him—his strength, his quiet but commanding demeanor—that drew me in. He didn't speak, but I could feel the tension between us, like an unspoken connection humming in the air. He had been there during the chaos, pulling me out when things went sideways.
"You're awake," Orion finally said, his voice deep but gentle. There was relief in his tone, though he kept his expression carefully neutral.
I blinked, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream. "How long have I been out?"
"Two days," he replied, leaning forward slightly. "You took a serious hit. We weren't sure if—" He cut himself off, glancing at Lucien, who stood by the window, his back to us, staring out over the cityscape of Kronos.
Lucien turned then, his expression unreadable. But I could sense the worry beneath the surface. For all his calm, mechanical exterior, I knew he cared. In his own way, he was as protective as anyone with a pulse.
"What happened?" I asked, the memories of the attack flooding back. The firefight, the chaos, the searing pain in my side when the bullet hit. The Rebellion had ambushed us—no warning, no mercy.
Lucien was the first to respond. "The Rebellion's growing bolder. That attack wasn't random—they knew we were onto them. You were lucky, Ava. We barely got out."
His words echoed in my mind. Lucky. But I couldn't shake the feeling that luck had little to do with it. The Rebellion's movements were becoming too coordinated, too precise. And then there was that dream... The orb, my father—it felt like more than just a product of my unconscious mind.
I glanced at Lucien, his angular features softened slightly by concern. "You… you were hit too, weren't you?"
Lucien nodded, but he waved it off like it was nothing. "I'm fine. It wasn't serious."
But I could tell from the way he moved, slightly stiff and guarded, that he hadn't come out unscathed. I frowned, feeling a pang of guilt. "You should've—"
"I'm a machine, Ava," Lucien interrupted gently. "I'm designed to take hits. You aren't."
I wanted to argue, but the exhaustion weighed me down, making it hard to keep my eyes open.
Orion stood up, his towering presence filling the room. "You need rest. We'll talk about the next steps when you're ready."
I nodded weakly, but as he turned to leave, I couldn't help but feel a pull toward him. His broad shoulders, the way he carried himself—it wasn't just his authority or his competence that intrigued me. It was something else, something deeper that I couldn't quite name yet.
"Orion," I called out softly before he could step out.
He turned back, his eyes meeting mine with a flicker of something unreadable.
"Thank you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded once, a silent acknowledgment, and then he was gone, leaving just Lucien and me in the quiet room.
Lucien stepped closer, his eyes scanning my face. "Are you sure you're okay?"
I smiled, despite the pain. "I will be. Thanks to you, too."
He didn't respond, just gave me a curt nod before turning back toward the window. I could see the weight of the recent events in the set of his shoulders.
As the room fell into silence again, I closed my eyes, the image of the purple orb still vivid in my mind. There was something happening, something beyond the war between Nexus and the Rebellion. And somehow, I was tied to it.
"When you're ready, you'll know."
I wasn't sure if I was ready yet. But I knew one thing—I couldn't ignore it any longer.