Haven – Medical Bay
The quiet rhythm of twin heartbeats pulsed in sync against your chest, Micah nestled to your right, Seren to your left. Their soft breaths, warm skin, and tiny hands—everything about them made the pain of labor feel like a distant memory.
The door slid open with a soft hiss, and three small shapes rushed in, held back only barely by Tara's gentle but firm hand.
Alessa, all legs and eager eyes, skidded to a stop first, her long dark braid trailing behind her. Ca'rdis and Me'ha followed, the twins slightly more cautious but no less wide-eyed.
"Mama!" Alessa gasped, stepping forward, then froze at the sight of the babies in your arms. "Are they okay? Are you okay?"
De'rax smiled, crouched to their level. "Come meet your new brother and sister."
Ca'rdis tiptoed closer, eyes wide. "They're so… small."
Me'ha pressed in beside you, whispering, "Do we get to keep them?"
That made you laugh. "Yes, baby girl. They're yours too."
Alessa's expression softened as she looked at Seren, sleeping peacefully now. "She's so tiny." Then she peeked at her brother. "What are their names?"
You stroked Micah's soft hair. "This is Micah. And your sister—Seren."
The name made them all pause. Even Alessa, already full of stories and boldness, seemed awed.
Ca'rdis blinked. "Micah like the flyer?"
You nodded slowly. "Yes. To remember him. Because he gave us all this chance."
There was a pause… and then Me'ha beamed. "I knew I'd get a baby sister!"
Outside – Haven Sky Dome
That night, the stars themselves seemed to honor the moment.
From the top of Haven's main tower, Tara, Ty'ris, and Argo launched the first of many fireworks—huge bursts of color that danced against the dome like living galaxies.
The people of Haven gathered below, cheering, laughing, holding each other close. From former slaves to trusted crew to families old and new, everyone was there.
And above them, wrapped in a blanket on the balcony of your suite, you held the twins, De'rax's arm around you, your other children piled in your lap or beside you.
Fireworks exploded—red, gold, blue, the Phoenix crest traced in green fire.
A cheer went up as loud as thunder.
"TO HAVEN!"
"TO FREEDOM!"
"TO LIFE!"
De'rax kissed your temple. "This is what Micah fought for. What we fight for."
You nodded, heart full. "And what we'll protect. Always."
Beneath the lights of freedom and the sound of laughter and love, Micah and Seren slept, born into a world worth fighting for.
Haven – The Plaza Below the Sky Dome
The final firework faded, leaving streaks of gold like stardust across the dome. The people stood together—families holding hands, soldiers with arms slung over one another's shoulders, children on shoulders wide-eyed in wonder.
Silence followed for a beat. Then…
A single voice rose. Soft, low. Familiar.
Caylee.
She began to sing.
"Where chains once bound, now wings take flight,
Where dark once ruled, we carry light.
From broken past to rising flame,
We stand as one—we live, we claim."
Others picked up the melody—first Tara, her voice strong and clear. Then Ty'ris, deep and rumbling like a drumbeat. The notes caught in the crowd like fire on dry wind.
"No master's whip, no silent cry,
No star too far, no soul denied.
We name the stars, we carve our way,
This is our home. This is our day."
People raised their hands. Some wept openly. Some stood still, trembling with emotion. Others clutched one another as if the sound itself kept them grounded.
"We rise, we rise, from ashes born,
Through storm and fire, through grief and war.
And every voice, and every hand,
Will build and fight and love and stand."
Your throat tightened as you stepped forward to the edge of the balcony with the twins in your arms. De'rax stood beside you, the other children gathered around your feet.
The final chorus swelled—louder now, proud, unstoppable:
"We are the light, the soul, the flame—
We are the stars, and Haven's name!"
The words echoed against the dome, through the corridors, through the ships docked within, vibrating in Silver Lining's core, etched now into the hearts of all who heard it.
A cheer erupted as the final note faded. Not loud. Not wild.
Just strong. Certain.
A people claiming their freedom—not as a moment—but as a truth.