Sera sat in the cold glow of her command station, the hum of machinery pulsing around her like a heartbeat. Her face, usually composed and sharp, softened as she glanced at the holographic images that flickered in front of her. A squad of Exiled soldiers, the red-blinking icons marking each of them, moved cautiously through the remnants of what was once a bustling town on the outskirts of Osiren. She could see the faint outline of their squad leader, Ren, as he led them with methodical precision, checking every corner, every shadow.
"Unit 07, you've got clearance for a tactical retreat. Return to base," she said, her voice low, almost hesitant.
The radio crackled. "Understood," came Ren's reply. There was something in his tone—gravelly and tired, but resilient, the kind of voice that had survived too much to simply surrender to a command. "Heading back."
She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The Exiled, as far as her training had told her, were supposed to be disposable soldiers. They were the "others," those whose lives had been deemed too flawed, too different to be worth preserving. But here they were, these soldiers she'd never met in person but had just helped through a battle, each of them just as real as the faces she saw every day back in the walled cities of Osiren.
Sera's hand hovered over the console, her fingers brushing the cold glass as she traced the path the Exiled squad had taken. She could almost picture it: the towering wreckage, the dust in the air, and Ren moving through it, steady and sure, guiding his squad with that same calm determination she'd heard in his voice. The thought tugged at her, a strange warmth replacing the cold professionalism she'd spent years cultivating.
"Commander?" A voice broke her thoughts. Sera turned to find her subordinate, a young officer named Ash, standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.
"Is something wrong, Ash?" she asked, clearing her throat.
He hesitated, his gaze flicking to the screen where the Exiled squad was now regrouping at their temporary base. "It's…unusual for you to monitor the Exiled units so closely," he said, choosing his words carefully. "Most commanders don't…pay as much attention."
Sera bristled but quickly caught herself. "We're supposed to be overseeing them, aren't we?"
"Of course, Commander," he replied, though there was a subtle wariness in his eyes. "But they're…expendable. We were trained to think of them that way."
Sera wanted to snap back, to say something sharp that would silence his doubts. But instead, she sighed, her gaze returning to the screen. "Maybe that's the problem, Ash. Maybe we're not seeing them for who they really are."
The words surprised her as much as they did him. For a moment, the room was quiet, the weight of her words settling between them. Then Ash, with a respectful nod, excused himself, leaving Sera alone with the still-flickering images of Unit 07.
Ren Kade lowered himself onto the cold, hard ground, exhaling deeply as he unclipped his weapon and set it beside him. The squad had returned to their makeshift base, a haphazard shelter pieced together from scrap metal and debris. It wasn't much, but it kept the worst of the elements off their heads, and for the Exiled, that was luxury.
He glanced around, catching sight of Elara checking their supplies, Kai tending to a wound on his arm, and a few others quietly talking among themselves. Exhaustion weighed heavy in their eyes, but they wore it like armor. For them, fatigue was just another part of life, like breathing or fighting. It didn't stop them; it was simply the background to everything else.
Ren's thoughts drifted to the new overseer, Sera. Her voice, soft and uncertain yet oddly compassionate, echoed in his mind. Stay safe. The words had stuck with him, lingering like an unfinished sentence, a question he couldn't shake.
"She doesn't sound like the others," Elara said, as if reading his mind. She had settled beside him, her sharp eyes fixed on him, gauging his reaction.
"No, she doesn't," he admitted, keeping his voice low. He looked over at her, his gaze steady. "But it doesn't mean we can trust her."
Elara snorted, crossing her arms. "Trust a Pureblood? Now that'd be a first."
Ren smirked, but there was no humor in his eyes. "Exactly. We listen, we take her intel if it helps, but we don't let her get too close."
"She might be worth listening to," Kai chimed in, joining them, still nursing his bandaged arm. "Those orders about the N-Type's weak point saved us. She could've just left us out there to fend for ourselves."
Elara gave him a skeptical look. "Or she's lulling us into a false sense of security, so we'll follow her orders without question."
Ren held up a hand, stopping the argument before it could start. "Enough. Whatever her motives, we stick together and rely on each other. That's how we've survived this long."
The group fell silent, each of them retreating into their own thoughts. Ren shifted his gaze to the horizon, where the walled city of Osiren loomed in the distance. Those walls weren't just barriers; they were symbols of separation, of how the Purebloods lived in luxury while the Exiled fought their battles. It was a sight that filled him with equal parts rage and determination.
After a few moments, he rose to his feet, brushing the dirt off his hands. "Get some rest. We don't know when they'll send us out again."
One by one, his comrades drifted away to find whatever comfort they could in sleep. Ren remained, though, his gaze fixed on the distant city lights of Osiren, the sight both beautiful and maddeningly out of reach.
As he stood there, the faint beep of his communicator broke the silence. He glanced at it, surprised to see a message from the command line—a direct message from Sera.
He hesitated, his thumb hovering over the button, before finally pressing it.
"Ren," came her voice, softer this time, as though she were speaking directly to him rather than the squad. "I wanted to… thank you. For trusting the intel I gave you."
He frowned, suspicion prickling at the edges of his mind. "Why are you telling me this, Commander?"
There was a brief silence, as though she were struggling with her words. "I know you don't trust me. And I don't expect you to. But I want you to know that… I'm not like the others. I don't see you and your squad as expendable."
Ren clenched his jaw, his gaze hardening. "Forgive me if I find that hard to believe. You're still one of them. You still live behind those walls."
"I do," she admitted, her voice quiet. "But I didn't choose to be born here, just as you didn't choose to be born out there."
Ren's heart thudded in his chest, her words hitting closer than he'd anticipated. She wasn't wrong; none of them had chosen their lot in life. But that didn't change the fact that she was on the other side, safe and shielded, while he and his comrades fought and died.
"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, the edge in his voice softening just slightly.
"Because…" She paused, as though uncertain whether to continue. "Because I think this war is wrong. And if there's anything I can do to change it, even a little, I want to try."
Ren was silent, the weight of her words settling over him. A part of him wanted to believe her, to think that maybe, just maybe, there was someone on the other side who cared. But trust was a luxury he couldn't afford.
"Good night, Commander," he said, his tone cool, closing the channel before she could respond.
As he lay down, staring up at the dark, starless sky, Sera's words lingered in his mind, a faint spark of something he couldn't quite name—a fragile, dangerous thing he dared not touch.
Hope.