As night settled over Valeris City, the neon-lit skyline cast a soft glow over the streets. The air buzzed with the usual sounds of a city in motion. Speeders humming overhead, the chatter of late-night crowds, and the occasional echo of distant music from open-air plazas. The city was alive, vibrant, in the midst of its rebirth. But for Ethan, all of it faded into the background.
His focus remained on the familiar path beneath his boots, a route he had walked more times than he could count. A path that led to a place that, in its own way, had become a sanctuary during his time on Kynara.
He reached Nara's Nest, a cantina that had been more than just a bar to him. It had been a place of refuge, of quiet conversations and hard-earned drinks, a rare constant in a life dictated by battlefields and missions. Now, as he stepped through its doorway for what might be the last time, he took in the changes.
The renovations were in full swing, a testament to the credits he had given Nara, the widowed owner. A second floor seemed to be in the making, the skeletal framework visible from the stairway near the back. Freshly painted walls replaced the once-cracked and worn surfaces, and new furniture gleamed under the soft lights. The reinforced bar counter, polished and sturdy, looked like it could withstand a plasma blast. A welcome upgrade from its former, battered state.
A few holo-screens lined the back wall, their muted displays alternating between galactic news, local trade updates, and soft ambient music. Despite the upgrades, the place hadn't lost its character. The same scent of aged whiskey and simmering stew filled the air, mixing with the warmth of idle conversations and the low hum of familiarity that made this place feel like home, if only for a while.
Behind the bar, Nara glanced up at him, a grin forming as she wiped a glass clean. Her silver-streaked hair was pulled into a loose bun, a few stray strands framing a face that had seen its share of hardship and yet still held an undeniable warmth.
"Figured you'd show up," she said, setting the glass down with practiced ease.
Ethan smirked, stepping up to the counter. "You know me too well."
She chuckled, shaking her head as she reached under the bar, retrieving a bottle of his favorite whiskey. The good stuff, not the synthetic swill most places tried to pass off as alcohol. She poured him a generous measure, the amber liquid swirling in the glass, catching the light.
"And I know you won't ask for it, but this one's on the house."
Ethan raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. "That so?"
"Consider it a farewell gift," she said, pushing the glass toward him before turning away.
As she moved, she ladled a steaming portion of stew into a deep, metal bowl, setting it down in front of him with a knowing smile. The rich aroma of slow-cooked meat, roasted root vegetables, and exotic Kynaran spices filled the space between them.
The scent alone stirred something deep inside him. A memory of past nights spent here, of quiet moments after long missions, of the comfort that came with familiar places and familiar people.
He picked up the spoon, letting the heat of the stew warm his fingers before taking a slow, measured bite. The tender meat melted on his tongue, perfectly seasoned, the hint of spice lingering just long enough to burn pleasantly at the back of his throat. It was simple, hearty, the kind of meal that could chase away exhaustion and ground a man in the present.
He let out a low, satisfied sigh. "Damn," he murmured, shaking his head. "I'm gonna miss this."
Nara didn't respond right away. Instead, she poured herself a drink, lifting her glass slightly before meeting his gaze. "I know."
They clinked glasses, the soft chime cutting through the cantina's background noise.
There were no drawn-out goodbyes, no sentimental speeches. It was just the quiet understanding between two people who had seen enough of life to know that some farewells didn't need words.
They drank in silence, the weight of the moment settling between them.
The usual patrons were here, scattered across tables, booths, and barstools. Miners, mechanics, mercenaries, workers, and traders...the backbone of Kynara, the kind of people who kept the city running, who lived their lives in the shadows of the bigger players, always working, always surviving.
They weren't the sentimental type. They had seen too many people come and go, too many ships vanish into the stars, too many faces become just another memory. Grand farewells weren't their style.
And yet, as Ethan drained his glass and set it down, a quiet ripple passed through the room. A few of them raised their drinks in silent acknowledgment. A nod here, a small smile there, a clap on the shoulder from an old acquaintance. No words needed, yet everything was understood.
A burly miner near the back, his face lined with the wear of years spent in the deep tunnels of Kynara's mining outposts, gave Ethan a slow, deliberate nod. "You take care out there, Captain."
An ex-mercenary, grizzled and battle-worn, leaned against the counter, arms crossed. His sharp gaze carried the weight of experience, the unspoken knowledge that men like Ethan were always one step away from danger. "Try not to get yourself killed. Or at least don't make it easy for 'em, Hero."
Ethan smirked, lifting his empty glass slightly. "No promises."
Even the bartender's assistant, a quiet young man who rarely ever spoke, gave him a respectful nod as he wiped down the counter, his usual detached demeanor replaced with something close to admiration.
The room held a quiet energy, an unspoken camaraderie that existed only among those who had spent their lives on the fringes, where loyalty was rare and goodbyes were often permanent.
There was no fanfare, no drawn-out speeches, no attempt to turn the moment into something dramatic. Just the simple, wordless acknowledgment of a man leaving behind a place that had, for a time, been a part of him.
Ethan let his gaze drift across the room one last time, memorizing the details. The dim, flickering lights, the scratched tabletops covered in stains and carvings from years of restless hands, the low murmur of conversations that would continue long after he was gone.
These people, this cantina, the memories they held....soon they would become part of his past. A familiar place that would one day feel distant, like a dream from another life.
But for now, for just a few more fleeting moments, it was all still real.
With a final nod to Nara, who stood behind the bar watching him with that same knowing look, he turned and walked toward the door.
The cool night air greeted him as he stepped outside, the sounds of the city washing over him.
He stood there for a second, breathing it in, letting himself feel the weight of it all. The strange mix of melancholy and quiet satisfaction that came with closing one chapter and stepping into the unknown.
Tomorrow, he would leave Kynara behind, another planet, another place, another memory added to the long list.
But tonight?
Tonight, he allowed himself one last moment in the place that had become an unexpected home.