Inside the main hall:
More soldiers stormed in. Riven, Taren, Veyra, and Elior fought with precision and fury.
Taren glanced around and shouted,
"Where's Peterson?!"
Lirael, dodging a blow, turned her head.
"You help them! I'll find him!"
Without waiting, she sprinted down a broken corridor, kicking open a half-closed steel door.
Elsewhere – in a hidden chamber:
Peterson stood face to face with his father. Both were breathing heavily. Their weapons were set aside.
"This ends here," Peterson said quietly.
His father nodded. "You've grown strong… too strong. But all of this—"
Suddenly, they lunged at each other. Their fists collided in raw fury. Peterson's arm was slashed; his leg cut deeply by a concealed blade. Blood poured across the cold metal floor. He dropped to his knees, panting.
With shaking hands, he raised a pistol to his father's head.
But his father calmly reached forward, pushed the gun down, then gently took it from him.
"Forgive me. Everything I did… was for you and your brother."
His father turned the gun to his own temple.
BANG!
"NO! DAD!!" Peterson screamed, collapsing beside him.
Moments later Lirael burst in. Her eyes widened at the sight—Peterson bleeding, crumpled beside his father's lifeless body.
"Peterson!" she cried, rushing to his side and supporting him.
"We… need to go," he muttered weakly.
Just then, Riven appeared through the smoke and debris.
"No time to talk. Everyone's already gone. Let's move!"
Exter, Nyssa, Serin, Uncle Tyson, and Saria stood before a holographic terminal showing the planet-link device still active. Earth remained in danger.
"Isn't the device the reason Zytherion's planet is being pulled toward us?" Exter asked.
"We have to find its core and blow it up."
Saria stepped forward. Her fingers danced across the alien console.
"Let me try," she said calmly.
Tension filled the air…
Beep. Connection terminated. Artificial gravity link—disengaged.
Exter clapped her on the back.
"Nice work, Saria."
Aboard the evacuation shuttle Taren looked out the window. He spotted three silhouettes running through the corridor.
"They're here!"
Lirael, Riven, and a wounded Peterson stumbled in just before the doors sealed.
The station shook violently. In the distance, the gravitational anchor core exploded in a blinding flash.
Minutes later – mid-flight Silence filled the cabin. Heavy breaths. Bandaged wounds. But they were alive.
Peterson sat slumped, quietly staring at the floor.
Taren sat across from him, arms crossed, eyes unreadable.
Lirael leaned against the window, watching as Earth slowly came back into view.
Riven clapped Elior on the shoulder.
"We made it."
Elior sighed, "But it's not over yet."
Lirael closed her eyes for a moment, then whispered:
"But this time, we write the ending."
The last aircraft soared through the atmosphere. Below them, the sky began to glow—a red light from the detonating core spreading like wildfire. The enemy base fractured beneath the pressure, then—
BOOOOMMM!!
A massive explosion shook the skies. A blinding light swallowed the entire facility in seconds, like a second sun bursting across the night. The shockwave rippled for miles.
Peterson leaned back, weak but conscious, his eyes barely open.
"Did we… do it?"
Taren, stunned, stared out the window.
"The whole base... it's gone."
Riven's jaw was clenched as he watched the devastation.
"That was the main link to planet Zytherion. We've severed it—for now."
Lirael stood silently, gripping the edge of the cabin.
"Our families, our friends... what they took from us… we finally struck back."
From the cockpit, Veyra shouted:
"Hold tight! We're heading back to a safe zone!"
The aircraft landed roughly but safely. When the hatch opened, cool night air rushed in.
In the distance, the fireball that had consumed the enemy base still burned in the sky, now only flickering embers among the stars.
Waiting for them were Tyson, Nyssa, Serin, Exter, and Saria.
As they stepped off the ship, Saria ran and threw her arms around Lirael.
"You're safe..." she whispered.
Exter rushed to help support Peterson, still injured.
"He needs treatment now."
Nyssa nodded. "Medical tent's ready."
Later – inside the camp:
Peterson lay resting, being treated. Lirael sat beside him.
Peterson turned his head slowly. "My father... he wasn't a good man. But in the end… he chose me."
Lirael met his gaze.
"You're not him, Peterson. You made your own choice."
Meanwhile, by the campfire, Taren sat with Riven, Veyra, and Elior.
"So… is it over?" Taren asked.
Riven shook his head.
"No. It's just beginning."
Veyra added,
"Zytherion is still out there. But now, they know—we can fight back."
Far beyond the stars, a faint red glow pulsed—Zytherion's looming presence still lingering. But for this night, there was peace.
Inside the medical tent, the night was still. Only the soft rustle of wind in the forest and the occasional footsteps of patrolling guards broke the silence.
Peterson lay weakly on a field bed, his wounds cleaned and wrapped. His face was pale, his gaze fixed on the canvas ceiling above him, as if part of his mind was still caught in the battle.
Lirael sat beside him, holding his cold hand. Her voice, soft but steady, broke the silence.
"You could've chosen their side. But you stayed… with us. With the humans."
Peterson slowly turned his head toward her, their eyes meeting.
He tried to smile through the pain.
"Maybe I'm half of them… but my heart… it was always here."
Without another word, Lirael leaned forward and embraced him gently. Warmly. Tightly. As if trying to pour all her gratitude and emotion into that one moment. Her shoulders trembled slightly.
"Thank you, Peterson… for coming back. For staying true to yourself."
Peterson exhaled slowly. For the first time in a long while, he felt peace.
"I never really left, Rael… I just got a little lost."
Lirael nodded, blinking away tears.
Outside, the crackling of a campfire echoed. Riven and the others were still on watch. But inside that tent, for a brief moment, time seemed to pause.
And amid the wreckage of a world broken by war—hope began to rise again.
Lirael stepped out of the tent with the others, their strides firm and determined. The camp was slowly coming back to life—warm campfires flickered and quiet conversations arose among the survivors who had just escaped.
Unnoticed by Lirael, inside the tent, the lightning-shaped mark on Peterson's neck began to glow softly. A blue electric light pulsed beneath his skin, syncing with a sharp pain radiating from the spot he was clutching.
Peterson clenched his teeth against the pain, his face tightening, but he fought hard to keep it from showing.