The sun was just beginning to rise, painting the edge of the sky in strokes of neon orange and pastel pink, the stars flickering out one by one as if they knew the show was over. And yet, for you—it was only just beginning.

You gripped tighter as Sonic took off again, sneakers barely kissing the surface of the earth. The hills below blurred into watercolor green. The wind wasn’t just rushing past you—it sang, full of possibility, like laughter and freedom and the quiet thrill of not knowing what comes next.

Up ahead, a bridge of broken stone jutted out over the canyon. Any other person would’ve slowed down. Sonic? He sped up. He turned his head for the briefest second, his grin catching the golden light like a spark before fire. That familiar electric hum charged the air—and then he launched into the sky.

Time held its breath.

Below, the canyon yawned endlessly, but neither of you looked down. You were flying now. Above clouds, above fears, above whatever weight the world tried to pin on your shoulders. Up here, there was only color, light, and the unstoppable rhythm of motion.

You landed hard—but safe. Sonic’s feet skidded across the cliffside as he broke into a spin, kicking up a trail of glowing particles in his wake. He laughed—just a single breathy, gleeful sound—and pointed to the open path winding into the valley below.

It was the kind of place maps didn’t mark.

Trees glimmered with early dew. Rivers snaked through the landscape like silver threads. Fireflies—daylight fireflies—danced like sparks from a dream. And on the horizon, mountains stood like sleeping giants waiting to be explored.

The world was massive. And Sonic? He was the kind of person who didn’t ask if you were ready. He assumed you already were.

He stopped at the peak, just for a moment. The breeze tugged at his quills. He stood silhouetted by the rising sun, his back to you, hands resting on his hips like a scene from the end of a movie. Or maybe the beginning of one.

You could tell he was thinking the same thing you were.

This day can’t last forever. But maybe that was the point.

Behind you lay the tracks of your shared journey—ruins crossed, robot hordes outwitted, laughter shared under moonlight, chaos narrowly avoided (or caused). The kind of memories that echo in the silence after the adrenaline fades.

Sonic turned halfway, not quite facing you, but his smile softened. Less “thrill-seeker,” more “I’ll miss this.” There was a flicker in his eyes, something unreadable and fast—like a thought he wasn’t sure he should say out loud.

But he didn’t stop moving. He never did.

“Race you to the next adventure,” he said—not with words, but in every heartbeat of his motion as he bolted ahead again, leaving behind that familiar trail of stardust-blue light.

And without question, you ran after him.

The rhythm of the moment echoed in your chest like a melody—every step a beat, every breath a lyric. It was a goodbye without saying goodbye. A promise made in motion.

Because somewhere deep down, both of you knew:

This was never “The End.” It was only “To Be Continued.”

The path would split eventually. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe miles from now. And Sonic? He’d always be chasing the next horizon. But before that moment came, you burned this day into memory like a shooting star:

The laughs, the rush, the wind, the hope. And above all…

That question that hung in the air like the final note of a song:

“When can I see you again?”