The structure groaned under its own weight, panels shuddering as red emergency lights flickered like dying embers. You were pinned beneath a fallen beam, blood trailing from your forehead, vision blurring. Aglea stood over you, breathing hard, her blade crackling with leftover energy. She wasn’t supposed to care. She was supposed to walk away, cold and untouchable as the void.

But she didn’t move.

Instead, she dropped to her knees beside you.

You tried to speak, but she pressed a gloved hand to your cheek—gently, like you were glass and she was learning how to hold something precious for the first time.

"You should have stayed behind," she said, voice lower than a whisper. "This... wasn’t your fight."

A weak laugh escaped your lips. “You said that three planets ago.”

Her mouth twitched like she wanted to smile—but didn’t. The ceiling groaned again, warning of a collapse.

She looked at you then—not the way she watched enemies or falling stars, but like you were something terrifying.

"I don’t know when it happened," she murmured, eyes burning violet under the glow of the emergency lights. "Maybe when you touched my hand on that freezing station. Maybe when you told me stories when I couldn’t sleep. Maybe when you looked at me like I was still human."

She leaned in, forehead brushing yours, voice shaking.

"But I care. Damn it, I care." "I would raze this whole system if it meant you lived."

You blinked, stunned—but the softness in her eyes was real. Raw. Earned.

She pulled back, gripping her sword again as another tremor rocked the station. "Don’t die on me, stargazer."

Then, like the hero in a forgotten myth, she rose with fire in her veins—ready to cut a path to your safety, even if it meant her own ruin.