Oblivion's Edge: Voidbōrn

4 Falling Toward Freedom

The next morning, °Aēlion-197 was up before the first morning chime.

Vehlarā expected to see the same quiet, shaken son from the night before, haunted by the truth they had uncovered.

But instead, she found him standing tall, dressed, and already spooning mouthfuls of breakfast stew into his mouth like nothing had happened.

"You're up early," she said cautiously.

Aēlion gave her a half-smile. "Thought I'd get ahead on my drills. You know how Veydrān is with form."

Vehlarā narrowed her eyes.

Something in his tone was too light.

Too normal.

Still, she said nothing.

As the morning rolled on, Aēlion resumed his daily routine as though the codec, the footage, and the truth of their past had all been nothing more than a dream.

He joined his training cohort, took orders, followed instructions, and sparred like usual.

He even laughed when one of the trainees cracked a joke about Veydrān's hair looking like a nesting crow. He didn't flinch when he heard other soldiers whispered about his third strike.

He was careful.

Too careful.

And no one suspected a thing.

When training ended that day, Aēlion didn't head home.

Instead, he took a different route, one less used, winding through the industrial zones on the Edge's outer limits.

He ducked behind energy towers, leapt across narrow vents, and crawled beneath forgotten scaffolding.

He was heading toward the Perimeter Gate.

The gateway to the real world.

A giant, guarded wall where no citizen was allowed to cross. It was said to be watched. Guarded 24/7 by elite security units.

And he was going to break through it.

He found a vantage point behind a row of old processors. From there, he could watch the guard rotations without being seen. He kept low, breathing quietly as he observed the sentries pacing in perfect rhythm.

They moved like clockwork.

One shift swapped with another instantly.

No gaps.

No hesitation.

Always someone watching. Always a gun pointed somewhere.

He bit his lip.

This wouldn't be easy.

Still, he stayed and watched for hours, taking mental notes. Timing their pace. Noting which sentry blinked more. Which one checked their communicator too often. Which one limped.

That evening, he returned home late.

Vehlarā was waiting, arms crossed, concern on her face. "Where have you been?"

He didn't miss a beat. "Extra training. Veydrān said I needed to fix my stance."

She relaxed a little. "Ah. That makes sense."

She stepped forward, hesitant. "Aelly about what we saw yesterday... "

"I'm over it," he said quickly, brushing past her.

She blinked. "Over it?"

"It was just an old footage Mom. It doesn't mean anything. Probably fake," he said flatly. "Let's not talk about it anymore."

Vehlarā stared after him, hurt and confused. She didn't know if he was lying or not.

- Info: The EDGE is controlled by a group of leaders and their identity is unknown except for Prime-Dexūs who is the supreme leader.

The next day, Aēlion did the same.

Train.

Smile.

Obey.

Study the guards.

Every night, he returned home late.

And every night, Vehlarā asked fewer questions.

A week passed.

Then another half.

He memorized everything. The angle of the cameras. The number of seconds it took for each patrol shift.

The blind spot caused by a broken sensor on the east side. The moment between energy surges when the outer wall's power briefly pulsed.

And finally, he found it.

A window. Just 6 seconds long.

But it was all he needed.

He went home that night and stared at Vehlarā as she cooked. Her back to him. Humming softly.

He couldn't say it.

He couldn't break her heart.

How could he bring himself to tell her, he was going to leave tomorrow?

So instead he wrote it.

A letter.

He folded it carefully, slid it into a fiberwrap pouch, and hid it deep inside her tool chest, the one she rarely opened. It told her everything. The plan. The gate. The truth. And most of all:

> "I need to see it with my own eyes Mom, I need to see the real world. If I don't return, I hope you forgive me."

He didn't sleep well that night.

The next morning, the day had come.

Aēlion woke up early, smiled at Vehlarā, and thanked her for breakfast. He hugged her a little tighter than usual.

Then he left.

Training was ordinary. Just like always. He passed Veydrān in the corridor and nodded. He laughed with his squadmates. No one noticed his hands trembling.

When the sessions ended, he slipped away.

Down the corridors.

Through the vents.

Past the warning signs.

The Perimeter Gate loomed ahead.

The guards were in place.

The clock was ticking.

He counted in his head.

Fifteen seconds until the next patrol shift...

Twelve...

Eight...

He pressed his back to the metal.

Five... Four...

His breath hitched.

Three... Two...

He ran.

Silent. Fast. Determined.

Just as the patrol shifted.

He reached the blind spot. Heart pounding. He ducked beneath the turret's arc.

Then sprinted across the gap.

The power pulse blinked.

He made it to the main gate panel.

His hand hovered over the manual override he'd studied.

Click.

Suddenly, a voice.

"Stōp."

Cold. Sharp.

A rifle cocked behind his head.

Aēlion froze.

He shouldn't be here! Not now.

Aelion thought to himself as the metal muzzle touched his neck.

"Tūrn ārōūnd. Nōw," the soldier barked.

Aēlion slowly raised his hands.

His heart thundered. Not from fear but fury. He was already so close.

The soldier stepped closer. Boots scraping.

Aēlion turned, and their eyes met.

Young. Maybe only a few years older than him. The soldier's eyes were hard.

But uncertain.

The rifle didn't lower.

"Yōu dōn't hāvē tō dō thīs," Aēlion said.

No response.

"Thīs plācē... īt's ā līe. Āll ōf īt. Thē ālīēns, thē wār, āll ōf īt. Thēy ārēn't tēllīng ūs ēvērythīng.. thērē's ā wōrld ōut thērē, ā rēāl ōnē fūll ōf līfē. Ī sāw īt."

The soldier blinked.

Just once.

But it was enough.

Hope flickered.

Then the gun clicked.

Aēlion shut his eyes.

Was this it?

...