Kael frowned, the silence in the room thickening like a fog.
"No records at all?" he pressed.
A cold dread settled over Kael's mind.
Mira broke the silence, her voice tentative but firm.
"What do you think your mom meant… by 'leave this place'? Was she talking about the company? Earth?"
Kael didn't answer right away.
Finally, he sighed and turned toward her, his voice low.
"Please… don't tell anyone about that message. Not yet."
Mira blinked.
"Seriously? Kael, she didn't say that for nothing. That voice. That wasn't just panic. It was—"
"I know what it was." His words were quiet but heavy.
"And I also know if something's coming… I won't run. Let them come. I'll be ready."
There was a pause. The air between them settled into something solemn and unspoken.
"I'm not a coward," he added, more to himself than her.
Mira studied him for a moment, the weight of everything still pressing between them—then finally, she gave a reluctant nod.
A faint smile touched Kael's lips, a brief break in the storm.
"I'm hungry," he said, the words almost casual.
"Take me to the nearest restaurant?"
That pulled a soft breath of laughter from her.
"No. Let me take you somewhere better. You remember that old place we used to go to as kids? The floating terrace café?"
Kael's eyes lit with recognition, just a flicker. "It's still there?"
"Surprisingly, yes. Changed owners three times. Still has terrible music and the best moonfruit tea."
A nostalgic grin tugged at his mouth. He nodded once, then turned to the corner of the room where his sleek, academy-issued antigravity bike waited.
Its polished black chassis gleamed faintly, still bearing the etching: First-Class Innovation Award
He hopped on, giving the controls a smooth tap. The bike rose with a whispering hum, floating effortlessly off the ground.
Mira climbed onto the back, arms hesitating just a second before wrapping around him.
"Let's go, Mr. 'I'm not a coward.'"
Kael didn't reply. He just let the hum of the engine fill the silence.
The floating café shimmered under the moon—as Kael guided the antigravity bike into a slow, descending hover.
The wooden deck of the Cloud's Edge Café came into view, still clinging to the sky after all these years like it refused to acknowledge the world had moved on.
Twinkling orbs strung across its eaves blinked lazily in greeting, casting soft reflections over the glassy cityscape far below.
Kael parked the bike with practiced ease.
Mira stepped off first, brushing windblown strands of hair from her face, her eyes scanning the familiar place with a touch of awe.
"It still smells like overcooked tree bark and sugar syrup," she said, inhaling deeply.
Kael chuckled. "Exactly as I remembered."
They walked up the steps and found a corner table on the edge of the deck, where the stars stretched forever and the wind carried the gentle murmur of high-altitude currents.
Kael tapped his temple.
"Iris" he said quietly. "Open audio. Include Mira."
There was a soft chime.
[Opening group channel. Adding civilian target: Mira… now.]
A second later, Iris's voice piped through a nearby speaker with a crisp, amused tone:
[Ooooh? Are we having a third wheel dinner? How intimate.]
Mira blinked. "Wait. What was that?"
Kael gave a sheepish grin. "That's Iris. My AI."
[Correction: his brilliant, beautiful, borderline sapient AI who has the unfortunate task of managing his moods, life, and occasional sulking.]
Mira squinted at the table speaker. "It talks like that?"
[Excuse you, I speak like this. I have linguistic flair.]
Kael leaned back, clearly enjoying this.
"I built her in my second year at the university. She evolved. A lot."
[He also tried to teach me humility. It didn't take.]
Mira crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow.
"So… you programmed a snarky AI who acts like your judgmental aunt?"
[I prefer 'charming god-tier digital entity with emotional nuance and zero tolerance for romantic incompetence.]
Kael nearly choked on his water.
Mira burst into laughter. "You're definitely not humble."
[And yet, here we are—me, you, and Kael, on a cozy date with emotional tension and unresolved childhood promises. Delicious.]
Mira glanced at Kael. "Does she ever shut up?"
Kael shrugged.
"I could mute her, but she logs complaints into my permanent memory. One time I tried to shut her off, and she rewired my playlist to include only dramatic violin solos."
[You deserved it !!]
Mira snorted and looked at Kael again, this time with amusement softening the edge of her voice.
"Okay, I have to admit, this is kind of… cute."
Kael smirked. "She grows on you."
[Like a brain fungus] Iris added helpfully.
Mira leaned closer to the speaker. "How does he put up with you?"
[He doesn't. He adores me. You'll learn.]
Kael laughed—really laughed this time, the sound warm and full in a way he hadn't felt since the message.
Mira caught herself smiling too, even as she rolled her eyes.
Their food arrived—smoked leaf dumplings and crystalroot stew, paired with glasses of synthwine that shimmered like melted stars.
They ate slowly, savoring not just the meal, but the unexpected comfort of shared memories and strange futures.
But then the quiet comfort cracked.
A heavy set of boots thudded against the wooden planks of the café floor. The air seemed to thin with a sudden weight as a shadow fell across their table.
Kael glanced up.