Earth's Orbit.
At a secret smugglers' base, the final cargo locks seal shut.
A massive freighter, engines rumbling with that heavy, throttled growl, slowly pulls away from the dock—
As if tearing itself from its own past.
It vanishes into the darkness of open space. Destination: Mercury.
Onboard are the fugitives.
Those who no longer belong to Earth.
Those running not just from enemies,
But from themselves.
And no matter how loud the engines roar—
Inside, the silence only deepens.
Almost immediately, another ship docks at the station.
Compact. Streamlined. Far more dangerous.
Onboard: Ivor.
He's not just chasing them—
He's part of a deeper game.
And he knows: in chaos, timing is everything.
Ivor disembarks without hesitation.
His stride is sharp, purposeful—like a man who wrote his own mission brief.
He enters the command deck.
"Alex and Yulia?"
The words cut straight, no preamble.
The station officer eyes him, distrust flickering behind a controlled frown.
"You're too late. Their ship already departed."
Ivor merely nods. No irritation. No rush.
He'll catch them—he always does.
I always catch up. Because I have to.
Because if I don't—no one will.
He jumps into a shuttle, switches to manual control.
The small vessel surges forward like a missile with will.
In minutes, it glides alongside the massive freighter.
Docking: flawless.
As if the universe itself swings open the door.
Inside the transport.
The ship's captain is already informed.
He points—wordless, resigned: third section, left corridor, cabin eleven.
No questions. No resistance.
Ivor moves through the halls like a shadow.
Certain. Unhurried.
A man who knows exactly why he's here.
They don't know I'm already aboard.
But it doesn't matter.
I'm not a threat.
I'm the transition.
In the cabin—silence.
Alex and Yulia lie half-asleep, clinging to the illusion of rest.
Their bodies limp, their minds restless.
Each one haunted by private ghosts.
Then—an alert.
Alex snaps upright. Sleep evaporates in an instant.
He stares at the screen.
"One of ours," he mutters, recognizing the face behind the door.
Jaw clenched. Shoulders tight.
The door slides open. Ivor enters.
"Long time no see," he smirks, like this is all part of a carefully directed play—
And he's both playwright and star.
He scans the small room, as if trying it on for size.
"You look rough," he says. "But at least you've kept your sanity—
didn't open the door for just anyone."
Pause. His tone is casual,
But there's steel beneath the surface.
"So, tell me—
How exactly did you two manage to light the fuse on a brand-new war?"
Alex shakes his head.
His voice trembles.
Words stumble from his throat.
"We didn't know… where it would lead."
He glances at Yulia—searching not for forgiveness,
But for confirmation
That it isn't all his fault.
"Honestly… I'm surprised we're even still alive."
Yulia raises her head.
Pain flickers in her eyes—
The kind that doesn't fade with hours or with eternity.
"Ivor..." her voice rasps, "they killed Ivan."
"I know."
His face doesn't change.
But his voice sharpens—like drawn metal.
"He was a good man.
But understand—his death is only a spark.
What's coming will tear through borders.
The old world's cracking—soon it'll collapse."
Silence descends.
Heavy, suffocating.
Like a bell tolling without sound.
Words are no longer necessary.
The future presses in, vague but inevitable.
Ivor unzips his jacket.
Reaches slowly into the inner pocket.
From his hand, a metal amulet catches the light—
Glowing faintly,
Like a heartbeat stirred to life.
"I have something for you," he says, stepping toward Yulia.
He places the amulet around her neck.
The artifact glows—
responds to touch,
pulses—breathes.
"I believe in the god Kairus," she says.
Her voice—mechanical. Not quite her own.
As if something else speaks through her mouth.
Alex flinches.
His face goes pale.
"What… does that mean?"
He steps closer, instinctively.
She couldn't have just said that.
Not like that.
What's happening to her?
To us?
Yulia looks at him.
Her gaze holds no fear.
Only tenderness.
Almost maternal.
And something else—
Certainty.
Without a word, she removes the amulet—
And places it on Alex.
He doesn't resist.
His hand trembles.
His lips part slightly.
"I believe in the god Kairus," he says.
And instantly—
Something dims inside him,
And something else ignites.
He reaches for her fingers.
Touches them—
As if to confirm she's real.
Or to check if he's already dreaming.
Ivor smiles.
But not from joy.
From understanding.
From revelation.
"Remember this," he says.
"On this ship, you two are the only believers."
He pauses.
"This is more than faith.
It's a challenge.
You've been given a mission now.
You can't walk away from it."
Alex lowers his head.
In his face—agreement.
Wordless.
On his lips—a smile.
Not of joy, but of knowing.
"No need to remind us, Ivor.
Kairus has already shown us everything."
Ivor nods.
Their handshake is brief, firm—
Like a soldier's vow.
He leaves.
No glance back.
No hesitation.
The deed is done.
The spark sown.
His shuttle undocks.
Engages full burn.
A trail of neon blazes behind him
as he reenters Earth's atmosphere—
Like a meteor still unsure
whether it's falling…
Or being born again.