The sun was dipping low behind the ridge when Kael returned home, the day's heat bleeding from the rocks and casting long shadows through the canyon pass. The last light of evening clung to the dust on his sleeves, turning the fabric amber as he stepped onto the metal-grated threshold.
The faint smell of machine oil and desert wind clung to him, quiet but telling.
Inside, the Virek home was calm in the way only a place defined by routine could be. The hum of recycled air drifted gently through the vents. The faint rattle of data keys echoed from the kitchen terminal as Mirena cataloged the next cycle's med supplies. Arik sat at the table, a half-disassembled repair module in front of him, eyes down, focused, but alert beneath the surface.
Jace and Lenn were out on night duty, running one final salvage rotation before recruitment trials began. Their absence made the room feel larger. Or maybe it was the decision Kael carried with him, making everything else feel smaller.
He stood at the entrance for a long moment, watching.
Neither of them had noticed him fully yet—not really. And in that quiet breath between being unseen and being heard, Kael let himself wonder:
Could he keep it to himself?
Could he wait another week, another year, pretend to be something he wasn't?
No.
He didn't want to carry this alone.
He stepped forward, his boots making only the faintest sound on the floor.
"I want to talk."
Arik looked up first, eyes narrowing just slightly. Mirena paused her work, turning, sensing something different in his tone.
"Alright," she said gently. "Come sit."
Kael slid into the chair opposite his father, folding his hands on the table. He stared at them for a moment, watching the way his small fingers curled against the woodgrain. His voice, when it came, was soft but steady.
"There's a place," he said. "A school. For the ones who are… different."
Mirena stilled, her fingers tightening around the edge of the counter. Arik's tools stopped mid-turn, hovering above the circuit board.
Kael didn't wait.
"Vessa told me about it. GAMA. Galactic Apex Military Academy."
He let the name sit there, heavy in the silence.
"You can go when you're twelve," he continued. "You train. You lead. You don't follow."
Neither of his parents spoke.
And Kael didn't rush to fill the silence.
He had learned, by watching them, that silence could say more than noise.
Mirena moved slowly, setting down her datapad before walking around the table. She took the chair beside him, close but not crowding. Her hand rested lightly against his back.
"Why do you want to go?" she asked, voice careful.
Kael didn't look at her. His eyes were fixed on the center of the table, as if he could see a future laid out in the grains of its surface.
"Because Jace and Lenn will go," he said. "They'll join the UG. And I can't follow them. Not yet. But if I go to GAMA, I won't be behind them. I'll be ready when it matters. I'll be… in a place where I can matter. Where can I protect them?"
Mirena's hand tensed.
Arik leaned back, slowly. His eyes scanned Kael's face, searching not for innocence but for intent.
"You're still a child," he said at last.
Kael looked up, meeting his father's gaze. His expression didn't change. "So were they, once."
Arik exhaled through his nose and rubbed a hand over his jaw. "Do you understand what a place like that is?"
Kael nodded. "A forge."
Mirena's breath caught. She looked at him, not with fear, but with recognition.
Kael turned to her, his voice quieter now. "But it's the only forge that builds someone like me."
That was when she understood: he wasn't asking for permission.
He was declaring a path.
Not with pride. Not from arrogance. Not even from ambition.
From purpose.
And it terrified her.
Arik stood. He crossed to the window without another word, staring out at the ridge beyond their dome. The sky had shifted into violet dusk, one of the moons beginning its climb across the rim. The lights of Hollow flickered across the basin like stars that had forgotten how to leave the ground.
"If you're serious," Arik said without turning, "then we start preparing. Not just your hands. Your mind. Your control. GAMA doesn't take raw talent. It takes clarity. Precision. Discipline."
Kael stood, too.
"I'm serious."
Arik nodded once, the movement tight, unreadable.
Mirena rose slowly, then pulled Kael gently into her arms. He didn't resist. He let himself be held, his arms sliding around her waist.
"You'll always be ours," she whispered against his hair.
"But I need to be more," Kael said, his voice muffled against her chest.
She closed her eyes.
"I know."
Arik turned back toward them, his silhouette framed in the fading starlight.
And in that moment, a quiet pact was formed.
No longer just a family raising a child.
But a family preparing to send one into a storm.