The planet still burned.

Smoke curled into the sky like ghostly fingers, stretching far beyond the shattered terrain. The battle had ended not long ago, but its scars were fresh—raw, unspoken. The Galra had hit harder than expected. The Voltron team was scattered across the battlefield, tending to civilians, guarding the perimeter, catching their breath. Allura stood at the edge of the ridge, eyes narrowed toward the horizon. She felt it before she saw it—them.

A Blade of Marmora ship cut through the clouds like a phantom. Another followed. Then more.

Kolivan’s figure emerged from the shadows as soon as the ship touched ground. Tall. Unyielding. Familiar. But it wasn’t him who made the air catch in Keith’s throat.

It was you.

You stepped down the ramp quietly, boots brushing through ash and dust. Your armor—scratched, marked, battered—spoke of years without rest. Your face was tired, but your eyes were sharper than blades, reflecting war and loss and everything in between. Galra markings shimmered faintly under the sunlight. A half-blood, just like him.

You scanned the battlefield, alert, assessing—and then your gaze locked on a figure across the clearing.

He froze.

You froze.

The world around you slowed.

Keith couldn’t breathe. He hadn’t seen that face in years. Not since the day you were taken. Not since the Blade missions pulled you away from any trace of home. He had spent so long believing he was alone in the universe—believing no one truly understood what it meant to be both human and something else entirely. He never imagined… you were out there.

His little sister.

You didn’t say a word. Neither did he. There was nothing to say. Not yet.

You stepped forward, slowly at first, then faster, like instinct was stronger than memory. He moved, too. Armor creaking. Shoulders trembling.

And then you were in his arms.

It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t clean. It was desperate. Real. Messy. His arms wrapped around your shoulders so tightly it almost hurt. You buried your face in his chest like you were trying to memorize the sound of his heartbeat. The war hadn’t ended. The universe was still spinning, broken and bleeding—but in that single moment, it was just the two of you.

The sister he never thought he’d see again. The brother you had never stopped searching for.

No one interrupted. Not Lance. Not Pidge. Not even Shiro.

Because for the first time in what felt like lifetimes, something was whole again.

And in the midst of war, that was everything.