Mira woke slowly, the edges of her awareness sharpening like a blade being drawn from its sheath. The air smelled of charred wood and something earthy, unfamiliar yet not unpleasant. Her body ached, muscles sluggish as if she had been unconscious for too long. When she shifted, the cool hardness of rock met her palms.
A cave. Small, with jagged walls that curled inward like the hollow of a beast's ribcage. Beyond the entrance, the desert stretched in endless dunes, rippling under a violet-streaked night sky. A pale moon hung low, and the stars scattered like fractured glass across the heavens.
At the mouth of the cave, a fire flickered low, embers crackling in the hush of the night. Seated just beyond its glow was Caleb.
His visor was gone.
Mira froze, breath catching in her throat. Without it, the sharp lines of his face were fully visible, unshadowed by the cool blue light of the holographic display. And his eyes—
She had never seen them properly before.
They were a deep violet, flecked with hints of gold, as if tiny galaxies had taken root within them. Like the distant remnants of stars, caught in an endless gravity well. The sight of them made something twist deep in her chest, a pull from another time, another place.
Caleb noticed her staring. "You're awake. How do you feel?"
Mira blinked, grounding herself. "I'm fine. I just..." She hesitated, then met his gaze again. "I never noticed your eyes before."
He raised a brow. "Are they strange?"
"No." She reached forward on instinct, cupping his face lightly between her hands. His skin was warm beneath her fingertips, and up close, she could see the way his pupils dilated slightly in the firelight. "They're beautiful. Like a distant galaxy in the sky."
Something unreadable flickered across his expression. His body tensed for the briefest second before he let out a low chuckle. "What kind of galaxy?"
She exhaled softly, a distant weight pressing against her ribs. Memories that weren't memories, pieces of time shattered and reassembled in the wrong order. Flashes of another Caleb. Older. Scarred. Standing in a field of tall, swaying grass beneath a violet sky.
The same face she was looking at now.
"Ours," she murmured.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The fire crackled, wind whispering across the sands beyond the cave. Then Caleb's gaze darkened, thoughtful. "How much do you remember?"
Mira shook her head. "Only bits and pieces. Scrambled visions. They don't make sense, but... they feel real. Like something pressing against my chest, making it hard to breathe." She hesitated. "I saw you. An older you. When we were younger, I saw you standing in the wastelands. And now—" She swallowed. "Now, you're here. The same as in my visions."
Caleb listened, his expression unreadable. Then he patted the spot beside him. "Tell me about it while we eat. Are you hungry?"
She hesitated before nodding, shifting to sit beside him near the fire. He reached for something beside him, handing her a fruit—round, charred black from the fire, its spines burned off.
She stared at it. "This isn't a nutrient nugget?"
His face twisted into visible disgust. "No. And we're never eating those abominations again."
A breath of laughter escaped her lips before she could stop it. He tilted his head slightly, as if pleased by the reaction. "It's called a redthorn grassfruit. Rich in protein and nutrients." He nudged it toward her. "Try it."
She took it, its warmth seeping into her fingertips. Tentatively, she bit into the crisp outer shell. The taste was unexpected—salty, with a hint of char that reminded her of fire-roasted meat. Different from the bland, synthetic nourishment they had always been given in the facility.
Caleb watched her closely. "Not bad?"
She nodded. "It's... different."
A small smirk ghosted across his lips. He reached for something else, plucking a small, striped berry from a pouch at his side. "Here. Try this one. It's a bluestripe berry. Perfect for quenching thirst."
Mira accepted it, rolling the tiny fruit between her fingers before biting down. A rush of cool, sweet juice spread across her tongue, washing away the lingering saltiness from the grassfruit. She swallowed, surprised. "It's sweet."
Caleb's gaze softened. "You like it. I'll remember that."
She tilted her head slightly. "You're knowledgeable."
"I was deployed in a desert once. The terrain was a lot like this." He glanced at the vast dunes beyond the cave, something distant in his expression. "When you were asleep, I told you about the places I'd been. Only the parts I could still recall."
Something stirred in her mind. Familiarity, faint yet persistent. Like she had heard these stories before but couldn't grasp them fully. Reaching into her pocket, her fingers brushed against something small and smooth. She pulled it out, turning it over in her palm.
A silver fruit seed.
She traced its surface, a fragment of memory slipping free from the fog. Caleb's voice, younger, softer, pressing the seed into her hand years ago.
A promise she had forgotten.
Her chest tightened as she clenched it in her fingers.
The past and present were colliding. And the future—
She didn't know how much longer she had before it all unraveled.