Smoke lingered in the wake of the battle like a ghost that refused to die.
The ground was still scorched where the Dezune troops had fallen, twisted exo-suits sparking in silence. Echo Nine and Vanguard Six were regrouping, bandaging wounds, dragging their dead into rows with solemn precision. Aera stood amidst it all—mud on her boots, blood on her sleeve, a cracked rifle in her hand.
But her eyes weren't on the aftermath. They were distant, searching for something not among the dead.
Her earpiece buzzed softly.
"Reinforcements have arrived," came Kael's voice. Even in the haze of war, his tone was the same—measured, cold, and devoid of any emotional resonance. "Perimeter secured. Medical tents being deployed."
Aera took a breath and stepped away from the field, into the shadow of a broken comms tower. She pressed a finger to her earpiece.
"You knew," she said.
There was silence on the other end.
"You knew they were coming," she continued, voice low. "The timing. The positioning. You sent us here on purpose."
"I calculated the risk," Kael responded evenly. "This area was strategically significant. An Empire sweep was probable."
"You let people die."
"I sent you with two elite squads and armed you accordingly. You survived. That was the intended outcome."
Aera leaned her head back against the cold metal of the tower, exhaling slowly.
"There were twenty-two of us at sunrise," she said quietly. "Sixteen now."
Kael didn't respond immediately.
"You said you want peace," she went on, bitter now. "You said this is all for that. But how many people have to die for your version of peace, Kael?"
"I don't want anyone to die," he replied, softer now—but still void of warmth. "But I operate in probabilities. In variables. There are paths to peace, and they require sacrifice."
"Sacrifice?" Aera's voice sharpened. "That's easy to say when you're not the one bleeding for it."
Kael's pause lasted a beat too long.
Then: "I bled for it. Every day, for fifteen years."
Aera's jaw clenched. "I don't care about your past. I care about now. I care about what kind of peace you're trying to create—because it feels like we're marching toward a throne built on bones."
There was a flicker in Kael's voice, almost imperceptible. "And what kind of peace do you think can survive without strength?"
"The kind that's built by people who trust each other," Aera said. "The kind that isn't dictated, but chosen."
Static crackled in her ear.
"I'll give you what you need to continue," Kael finally said. "Supplies, reinforcements if necessary. You have operational freedom."
"I don't need your permission," she said flatly. "Just your help."
And with that, she pulled the earpiece out and crushed it under her boot.
The sound of the shattered comm echoed louder in her head than any gunfire ever had.