Beast Sovereign: Rebirth Of The Star Age

Chapter 10 — The Storm That Follows Silence

The morning came shrouded in gray.

Fog rolled across the ruins of the old city, swallowing what little light the rising sun tried to offer. From the upper deck of the observatory base, Ren watched the haze drift over broken towers and silent streets. The world seemed frozen between two breaths, a fragile moment suspended before chaos.

I’m starting to think peace is just a pause between storms.

He adjusted the strap of his combat vest, fingers brushing against the scar beneath his jaw, a thin, pale line carved by an old wound. It was a small mark, almost invisible, yet every time his reflection caught it, he remembered why he kept fighting.

I’m starting to think scars are just stories we survived.

“Ren,” came Lyra’s voice from below.

He turned to find her already suited for the mission, her armor a balance of grace and function, its surface glinting silver under the dim light. Her hair, still damp from the morning mist, framed her face in soft waves. There was a calm in her eyes that defied the tension humming through the base.

“You’re early,” he said, descending the metal stairs.

She smiled faintly. “You didn’t really think I’d sleep after last night, did you?”

“Guess not.”

They walked together through the corridor that hummed with low mechanical life, drones buzzing overhead, engineers muttering over flickering screens, the faint static of comms linking units across sectors. Yet amid the controlled chaos, their steps matched rhythm perfectly, as though time itself bent to the pace of their shared resolve.

I’m starting to think we’re moving in sync.

At the hangar, Commander Vareth awaited them, a towering figure, half flesh, half machine. His left eye glowed with a faint amber light, scanning the soldiers assembling before him. “Squad Sigma moves in fifteen minutes,” he barked. “Objective: secure the Spirit Nexus core before the Dravyn forces breach the perimeter. Ren, Alpha flank. Lyra, spirit sync and overwatch.”

Both saluted. “Understood.”

Vareth studied them a second longer than usual, then muttered, “Don’t get sentimental out there. This isn’t a charity mission.”

As he turned away, Lyra whispered under her breath, “He says that every time someone doesn’t come back.”

Ren shot her a look that was half reprimand, half smile. “You’re getting reckless with your jokes.”

“Maybe I’m learning from you.”

Her smirk tugged something unspoken out of him, something dangerously close to warmth.

I’m starting to think laughter is rarer than victory.

They reached the drop shuttle, its hull still scarred from previous engagements. Engines hummed low, ready for launch. Soldiers filed in silently, their faces masked with purpose. Just before stepping inside, Lyra paused and looked at Ren. “About what you said last night…”

Ren shook his head gently. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have”

“No.” Her voice was firm. “I won’t forget. Because it meant something.”

He froze. Around them, the hangar noise faded until there was only her voice.

I’m starting to think she doesn’t run from the truth.

“Whatever happens today,” she continued softly, “don’t carry everything alone. If you fall, I’ll be there. That’s not an order, it’s a promise.”

He met her gaze, his throat tight. “Then I’ll have to survive just to hold you to that promise.”

A faint flush colored her cheeks as she turned away. “Come on,” she said, hiding a smile. “Let’s finish what we started.”

The shuttle roared to life, rising through the mist.

Below, the city’s ruins sprawled like a wounded beast, fractured highways glowing faintly with residual spirit energy, buildings half-buried in the earth. Beyond it all pulsed the faint radiance of the Spirit Nexus, their destination.

Lyra watched the landscape pass beneath them. “It’s strange,” she murmured. “This world used to be beautiful.”

Ren followed her gaze. “It still is,” he said. “Just… broken in ways we can’t see.”

Her eyes flicked toward him, and though he didn’t look back, the silence between them said enough.

I’m starting to think beauty isn’t perfection, it’s survival.

Then the alarms screamed.

“Hostile energy surge!” shouted the pilot. “Dravyn interceptors inbound!”

Ren’s instincts took over. “Brace for impact!”

The sky erupted in fire. Twin plasma bolts streaked through the clouds, ripping into the shuttle’s wing. Metal shrieked, alarms blared, and the craft spun out of control. Lyra reached for her harness, but the impact threw her sideways.

“Spirit sync, now!” Ren shouted.

Lyra’s eyes flared silver as she extended her energy outward, forming a protective barrier that wrapped around them like glass-light. The shuttle tore through debris, slammed into the ground, and skidded across a ridge of broken concrete before crashing to a violent stop.

The world dissolved into smoke, sparks, and ringing silence.

I’m starting to think gravity hates me.

Ren coughed, tasting dust and blood. Pain throbbed through his ribs, but his mind cut through it with sharp clarity. “Lyra!”

Her reply came faint and hoarse. “Here…”

He spotted her trapped beneath a collapsed beam, her armor cracked and sparking. He didn’t think, he just moved. Channeling raw energy into his arms, he pried the beam loose with a burst of force that tore muscle and strained bone. When it finally gave, she fell forward into his arms, gasping but alive.

Relief hit him harder than pain.

I’m starting to think I’d break myself just to keep her breathing.

“Still think you don’t need a savior?” he said through clenched teeth.

Lyra let out a shaky laugh. “I never said I minded having one.”

The sound of her laughter, fragile, real, cut through the ruin around them like sunlight.

He helped her stand, his hand steady against her back. The shuttle was nothing but twisted metal now, burning quietly in the fog. Their comms crackled with static; no one was answering. The rest of their squad was either scattered, or gone.

Lyra steadied herself, scanning the horizon. “We’re close to the Nexus coordinates,” she said, voice thin but determined. “If we move fast, we can still reach it before they do.”

Ren nodded, though his chest ached with every breath. “Then we move.”

But as they took their first step, he hesitated, just long enough for the truth to settle in his mind.

I’m starting to think I’m not afraid to die, but I’m terrified of losing her.

They moved through the smoke and ash. The world was chaos, broken spires, rivers of molten light, air filled with the scent of ozone and burning metal. Every echo sounded like a heartbeat, every shadow like a ghost.

When they paused behind a fragment of wall, Lyra touched his arm lightly. “Ren,” she whispered, “whatever happens next”

He stopped her, placing his hand against her cheek, his thumb brushing away a streak of dust. “Don’t,” he said softly. “You’re not saying goodbye.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Her voice was calm, but her eyes shone. “I was going to say I trust you.”

Time slowed. The world outside their small circle of breath and heartbeat no longer mattered.

I’m starting to think trust is more dangerous than love.

He leaned closer, just enough that she could see the exhaustion, the fear, and the fierce devotion in his gaze. “Then I’ll make sure you never regret it,” he said.

A distant explosion split the horizon, bright and terrible. The Spirit Core had detonated, its light cutting through the gray. The earth trembled beneath their feet, dust and fire rising like the breath of a god.

Lyra tightened her grip on his hand. “The storm’s begun,” she whispered.

Ren’s lips curved in a grim smile. “Then let’s give it something to remember.”

As they vanished into the firelit ruins, their silhouettes moved as one, two small figures against the vast, burning world, bound by something greater than duty.

I’m starting to think love is the most dangerous kind of strength.

And for the first time in his life, Ren didn’t fear it.

He embraced it.