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“No, he doesn’t. He thinks he can use them because they gave us intel on Attica, and maybe he can. That doesn’t mean I have to like seeing Concordant walk our streets. Men like that never come for one thing.”

“Hey.” Ryneth reached out, his fingers grazing Daven’s forearm. “I was only teasing. And I know. But your uncle isn’t weak, Daven. If he let them land, then he’s already counting the cost.”

Daven didn’t look convinced. He set the coffee down with a sharp thud and tapped his multi-slate. A holographic screen flickered into life between them, blue light washing over the kitchen.

“What is that?” Ryneth asked, his heart hammering against his ribs.

The screen stabilized. The image wasn't of a map or a tactical report. It was a hospital room, white, sterile, and flooded with soft Helion sun. In the center of the frame sat a boy. He looked barely twelve, with an angelic face and dark hair that curled softly over his forehead. He was wearing a soft hospital gown, his thin arms resting on a tray of food that looked better than anything he’d ever eaten on Düren.

The boy looked up at the camera and smiled, a bright, gap-toothed expression that was pure light.

“Tavi,” Ryneth breathed, his voice breaking.

Little brother.

Ryneth reached out to touch the hologram, his fingers passing through the light. His breath caught so hard it hurt. Tears rushed hot into his eyes before he could stop them, blurring Tavi’s face for a second. He looked alive. Bright. Breathing easy. Happiness hit so suddenly it left him shaking.

“He wanted to see you,” Daven said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Ryneth looked at the screen, then at the man who had made this call possible with a single decision. For a moment, he couldn’t find any words. All he could do was smile through the tears already slipping down his cheeks.

Ryneth’s fingers hovered over the blue-tinted image of his brother’s cheek. Tavi looked stronger already. The gray cast to his skin was gone, replaced by a faint flush that made Ryneth’s chest ache.

“Ryneth! Can you hear me?” His baby brother leaned closer to the camera, his voice coming through the speakers clear and sharp, devoid of the rattling wheeze that had defined his childhood.

“I can hear you, little star,” Ryneth managed, his voice thick. He forced a smile, though his throat felt like it was closing. “How are they treating you in there? Are they being good to you?”

“The best!” Tavi held up his arm, showing the neatly taped IV line and the high-tech monitor on his wrist. “I cough a lot less, Ryneth. Look! I can breathe all the way to the bottom of my lungs without it hurting. And the food—I’ve been eating better than I have in years. They gave me this cream-cake yesterday that tasted like actual clouds.”

Ryneth let out a wet laugh, another tear escaping and tracking down his cheek. The relief lifted a weight off his chest, leaving him light and dizzy.

“How is everyone else doing?” Ryneth asked, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “How are the little ones? Are they staying out of trouble?”

“They come every day to visit me,” Tavi chirped, his eyes bright with excitement. “The guards bring them in a big shiny car. Mara says she’s never seen anything like it. She says the seats feel like butter. And Ryneth… the doctor says I can go home in a few days. Our new home! Have you seen it yet?”

Ryneth froze. The static in his veins went still. “New home?” He turned back to the hologram. “Tell me… tell me all about it, Tavi.”

“It’s huge!” Tavi gestured wildly, his small hands cutting through the air. “It’s on the lower levels of the Spire, but it has real windows, Ryneth. And there are three bedrooms. One just for the little ones, and a big kitchen for Mara, and a room for you. There’s a garden on the terrace with blue grass that glows at night. Mara cried when she saw the stove. She kept touching the burners like they were made of gold.”

Ryneth couldn’t stop looking at him. He memorized every line of that face, the pure joy in Tavi’s expression, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about the garden. He had missed him so much it felt like an ache in his bones. Had missed the noise, the smell of Mara’s stew, the weight of his siblings piled onto one mattress.

“Do you have toys there?” Ryneth asked, needing to hear more, needing to anchor himself in this new reality.

“I have a drone!” Tavi’s eyes went wide. “A real one, Ryneth. It’s small and silver, and the prince said I can learn to fly it once my lungs are stronger. He said he’d send someone to teach me. Is he nice, Ryneth? Mara keeps asking what kind of prince would do something like this.”

Ryneth’s throat tightened. He felt Daven’s gaze burning into his side. “He... he’s different than I expected,” Ryneth said carefully. “He keeps his promises.”

And somehow, that had become the thing Ryneth trusted most.

“I told them you’d find a way,” Tavi said, his voice dropping into a rare moment of seriousness. “I told them you’d come back with something better. And you did.”

Ryneth’s vision blurred again. “I did it for you. Always for you.”

“I know. But don’t work too hard, okay? The doctor says you’re at a special school now. Are you learning to build the big ships?”

“Something like that,” Ryneth smiled through the tears. “I’m learning how to make sure things don’t fall apart.”

The door in the background of the hologram opened, and a nurse stepped into the frame, checking her slate. “All right, Tavi. That’s enough for today. Your vitals are peaking from the excitement, and the doctor says you need to rest if you want to be discharged on schedule.”