The grand hall of the Titanic was alive with music, light, and laughter. Golden chandeliers swayed gently with the subtle rocking of the ship, and the smooth notes of a jazz band filled the air. Tables were arranged in a wide arc, each adorned with pristine white cloths, plates of lavish food, and crystal-clear glasses. Civilians and enforcers alike filled the space, their voices blending into a hum of life and joy. It was as if, for a moment, the world beyond the ship didn't exist.
Rowan and Amara stood in the middle of the dance floor, locked in a playful back-and-forth as they tried to outdo each other's dance moves. Rowan spun in a wide arc, her spear twirling with her like an extension of her body. Amara snorted, swiping a hand through her short hair, then stomped in rhythm to the beat, her steps sharp and precise. Each stomp shook the floor just slightly, drawing laughs and cheers from the small crowd around them.
"You call that footwork?" Rowan teased, grinning wide as she did a quick spin. "I've seen old Enforcers with better rhythm than that."
"Watch your mouth, twig," Amara shot back, her eyes flashing with a dare. Her footwork quickened, her body moving with crisp precision as her moves shifted into something between combat stances and dance steps. Her eyes locked with Rowan's, daring her to match the speed.
"Alright, alright, I admit it," Rowan laughed, wiping sweat from her brow. "You win. I'm calling it." She jabbed a playful finger at Amara. "But next time, I'm bringing music from my world."
"Deal," Amara said, offering a victorious smirk.
The onlookers clapped and cheered as the music swelled, their faces brighter than they had been in weeks. For a moment, the weight of the Core's influence felt miles away.
Kieran sat at the captain's table, leaning back in his chair, looking every bit like a man trying too hard to appear at ease. His plate was mostly untouched—slices of steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans that had gone cold. His fingers drummed lightly on the edge of the table, eyes sharp, scanning the room like an instinct that wouldn't die.
"Not eating, lad?" Captain Smith asked, his voice steady, carrying that unmistakable authority of a man who had commanded too many battles to count. He sat at the head of the table, his white Enforcer's coat draped over his chair, his sleeves rolled up just enough to show forearms lined with old scars.
Kieran shrugged, forcing a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Trying. This is attempt number three. If I lose again, I'll be out for another two days."
Captain Smith raised an eyebrow but didn't press. "You've survived worse. Your Stomach'll catch up."
"One would hope," Kieran muttered, poking at his plate with a fork.
"Mind if we sit here, lad?" The voice came from behind him, gentle but steady. An elderly couple, hands linked, looked at Kieran with kind, expectant eyes. The old man had a weathered face and a silver beard, while the woman wore a shawl embroidered with tiny doves.
"Please," Captain Smith said before Kieran could answer. He gestured to the open seats. "I'm sure he could use the company."
The couple sat down, offering warm nods to Kieran. The old man leaned forward, placing his hands on the table, eyes crinkling with curiosity. "How many cycles has it been for you, son?" he asked bluntly.
Kieran's fork hovered mid-air. His jaw tightened. "Ones Enough, thank you."
The old woman smiled kindly. "We've lost count. This is the first one where I've seen people dancing like that." She glanced at Rowan and Amara on the dance floor. "They're a lively bunch arent they."
Her words lingered.
Kieran exhaled slowly, lowering his fork. "Yeah," he said quietly, his gaze distant. "They are."
Aiden sat down at the Captain's table, the seat directly across from Captain Smith himself. The man exuded quiet authority, his every movement calculated, every glance meaningful. His eyes were sharp but not unkind—eyes that had seen too much and endured it all with patience.
Beside Aiden sat Sylva, her ethereal glow soft in the ambient light. She leaned forward, eyes fixed on Captain Smith as he spoke. Her smile was faint, like she knew something nobody else did.
"To reach Transcendence," Captain Smith said, his tone deliberate, each word carrying weight, "and to blend opposing forces into one… I'll admit, I never thought it possible." His gaze shifted to Aiden, his eyes narrowing as if analyzing him under a lens. "But here you are. You've done something no one has ever done before."
Aiden shifted in his chair, glancing at the Ring of Vows on his finger. It shimmered faintly in the low light, its glow pulsing with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
"It wasn't easy," Aiden admitted, rotating the ring on his finger. "But it felt… right. I stopped trying to push one side or the other away and started pulling them together." He glanced at Sylva, seeking confirmation. "It felt like both sides were meant to coexist from the start."
Sylva's gaze softened, her glow intensifying just a little. "Perhaps, you're right," she said, her voice as steady as the ocean beyond the ship's walls. "Of all the Aidens I've ever known—" she paused, eyes distant for a moment "—none have ever reached this point. Not one." Her eyes shifted back to him, her gaze proud yet cautious. "But that potential can be as dangerous as it is promising."
Aiden raised his head, his eyes narrowing. "You've seen them?"
Sylva hesitated. Her glow dimmed. "Yes, including the sentinel there have been many."
"Show me," Aiden said firmly, his jaw set. "I need to see."
Sylva's glow dimmed, hesitation crossing her face. "It's not wise," she said slowly, her voice almost pleading. "What's seen can't be unseen, and it leaves a mark. Not all of them fell gracefully."
Captain Smith nodded, his expression turning grim. "She's right, boy. It could mess with your head. But... it might also show you what you need to do next."
"I don't care." His eyes met hers, unwavering. "I want to see."
Captain Smith leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "But it could also be the catalyst for his next step." he said firmly, his fingers tapping the wood in a slow, rhythmic pattern. "If you only walk forward, you'll never know what's chasing you from behind."
Aiden frowned, glancing at Smith. "What do you mean by that?"
Sylva's eyes narrowed at the captain, but she didn't argue.
The Captain raised his brows, glancing at Sylva. "Show him," he said plainly. "Let him see what you're so ashamed of. He needs to know what failure looks like."
Silence hung between them. Aiden glanced at the ring on his finger, his fingers tightening. "Do it," he said, lifting his eyes to Sylva. "Show me."
Her gaze lingered on him, searching for doubt. When she found none, she exhaled, her glow growing dimmer as she lifted her hand toward him. A faint circle of green light formed in her palm, swirling like a whirlpool.
"Don't look away," Sylva warned as the light expanded, enveloping his vision.