The ruined fortress loomed against the night sky, its crumbled towers and jagged walls casting long shadows over the barren expanse. The rebels moved cautiously through the broken gates, their breaths visible in the chill air. Kael brought up the rear, his eyes scanning their surroundings for signs of pursuit.
"This place will have to do," Cira said, her tone grim.
Kael snorted. "'Do' isn't exactly reassuring."
Cira shot him a glare but said nothing. The group began setting up a makeshift camp in what had once been a grand hall. The high, arched ceiling was now riddled with cracks, moonlight filtering through in faint beams. Broken furniture and rubble littered the floor, but it was defensible—for now.
Kael leaned against a half-collapsed pillar, watching as the rebels worked. He felt Rho's presence nearby, the construct's golden eyes dim but attentive.
"You're going to alienate them if you keep this up," Rho said softly.
Kael folded his arms. "They don't trust me, and I don't trust them. That's just reality."
"Trust isn't given freely," Rho replied. "It's earned."
Kael didn't respond, his gaze drifting to the rebels. A young boy, no older than twelve, struggled to drag a broken plank toward the makeshift fire. His face was gaunt, his eyes hollow. Something about the boy's movements stirred a memory in Kael—a flash of his younger self, scavenging in the ruins with his sister, both of them clinging to survival by sheer will.
He pushed the memory aside, his jaw tightening.
As the fire crackled to life, the rebels gathered around it, their faces drawn and tired. Cira sat apart from them, sharpening a blade that had seen better days. Kael remained on the outskirts, his back to the wall.
"You're not exactly a team player, are you?" Cira's voice broke the silence. She didn't look up from her blade.
Kael shrugged. "Teamwork hasn't done me many favors."
"Funny, considering you're alive because of it right now."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "I didn't ask to be part of this. If anything, you're alive because of me."
Cira set the blade down and met his gaze. "Maybe so. But if we're going to survive, we need to work together."
Kael scoffed. "'Together' is just a polite way of saying 'rely on me.'"
Cira's eyes hardened. "You think you're the only one carrying weight? Look around. These people have lost everything. The Citadel doesn't just kill—it experiments, it breaks, it takes what little hope people have and grinds it into the dirt. You don't get to judge us for fighting back."
Kael leaned back against the wall, his expression unreadable. "And how's that working out for you?"
Cira's lips pressed into a thin line. She picked up her blade and resumed sharpening it, the scrape of metal filling the silence.
Later, as the group settled in for the night, Kael found himself sitting near the young boy he had noticed earlier. The boy was struggling to tighten a crude bandage around his arm, his hands trembling from exhaustion.
"Let me see that," Kael said gruffly, kneeling down.
The boy hesitated, his wide eyes filled with fear. Kael softened his tone. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Reluctantly, the boy held out his arm. The bandage was poorly tied, blood seeping through the fabric. Kael pulled a small vial of salve from his pack and applied it with practiced efficiency before rewrapping the wound.
"There. That should hold," Kael said, stepping back.
The boy looked up at him, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you," he said quietly.
Kael nodded and stood, returning to his post by the wall. Rho hovered beside him, its voice low.
"You're not as detached as you pretend to be."
Kael glared at the construct. "Don't start."
Rho's golden eyes flickered, a faint hum of amusement in its tone. "I'm simply observing. Beneath all that cynicism, there's still a trace of the person you used to be."
Kael didn't reply, his gaze fixed on the firelight flickering across the ruined walls.
The next morning, Cira approached him as the group prepared to move out. Her expression was guarded but less hostile than before.
"I've seen what the Citadel does to people," she said. "Forsaken settlements, entire families wiped out. But it's not just about destruction. They're experimenting on survivors, turning them into… things."
Kael's jaw tightened. He had heard whispers of the Citadel's experiments, but hearing it confirmed sent a cold chill down his spine.
"Why are you telling me this?" he asked.
Cira's gaze was steady. "Because you've seen what they're capable of. And because, whether you like it or not, you're part of this now."
Kael didn't respond, but her words stayed with him as the group began their journey once more. The ruins of the fortress faded into the distance, but the weight of what he had learned lingered. For the first time in years, Kael found himself questioning not just his path, but the walls he had built around his heart.
As they moved deeper into the Expanse, he couldn't shake the feeling that those walls were beginning to crack—and that whatever lay beyond them might be the key to his survival.