The cold hiss of the starship's airlock sealing behind you is a strange contrast to the warmth you once knew. You stand frozen in place, your breath shallow, eyes locked onto the man in front of you. It can’t be.

“You...” The words leaves your lips like a question you’re too afraid to answer. He turns slowly, the heavy insignia on his dark uniform glinting under the sterile lights. The stars etched onto his epaulettes identify him as a colonel of the Farspace Fleet, but it’s his eyes that pierce through you—a haunting mix of familiarity and something darker, colder.

“What,” he says, his voice deeper, harder than you remember. “Did you honestly think I would always be the kindhearted boy from your childhood?”

Your chest tightens, memories flooding in—him laughing as you chased fireflies in Grandma Josephine’s garden, the two of you sharing stolen slices of apple pie under a blanket of stars, whispering dreams of adventure. And the explosion that stole him from you.