Bonus chapter Part 3

POV Kaleo

The skies over Selvaria are dark, filled with the soft glow of stars, but my mind is far from quiet. The weight of what we’ve done today still lingers in the air, like the scent of the flowers Melissa used to poison Unob. She’s asleep now, her breathing even, her face serene. Koti rests in the small crib beside our bed, her tiny tail occasionally flicking as if she’s chasing dreams.

I watch them both for a long moment, leaning against the doorframe of our room. This cabin we built together feels warmer now, safer. It’s no longer haunted by Melissa’s fears, but a part of me wonders if those fears have just transferred to me.

Melissa is stronger than she realizes. Her heart is bigger than this entire planet, and her determination to protect others, even after everything she’s endured, is something I can only marvel at. But that strength comes at a cost. I see it in the way she tenses when Koti cries, as if the weight of the galaxy depends on her response.

Tonight, I saw that weight again, in her tears as Unob’s life slipped away. She tried to hide it, but I know her better than anyone now.

A soft cry pulls me from my thoughts. Koti is stirring, her small fists waving in the air. I’m at her side in an instant, scooping her up and holding her against my chest. She calms immediately, her head resting against the fabric of my shirt.

“You’ll never know fear,” I whisper to her, stroking the soft, pale skin of her back. “Not while I’m here.”

I step outside onto the porch, letting the cold night air wash over me. Koti’s warmth is a comfort against my chest, and I hold her close, staring out at the dark forest that surrounds our home. Somewhere out there, the remnants of Unob’s ship are burning, reduced to ash along with the man himself.

It should feel like justice, and in many ways, it does. But justice, I’ve learned, is rarely as simple as it seems.

“Kaleo?”

Melissa’s voice is soft, sleepy, and when I turn, she’s standing in the doorway, her hair falling in loose waves around her face. She wraps a blanket around her shoulders, stepping out onto the porch with me.

“You should be resting,” I say, but there’s no heat in my words.

She smiles faintly, coming to stand beside me. “I couldn’t sleep. I woke up, and you weren’t there.”

I nod, shifting Koti slightly so Melissa can see her. “She was restless.”

Melissa reaches out, brushing her fingers over Koti’s tiny horns. “She looks so peaceful now,” she murmurs.

“She takes after you,” I say, and Melissa lets out a soft laugh.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been peaceful,” she replies, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

“You will be,” I promise. “One day.”

She leans against me, her head resting on my shoulder. We stand there in silence for a while, the cool night air wrapping around us.

“Kaleo,” she says eventually, her voice hesitant.

“Yes, my love?”

“I’ve been thinking,” she begins, and I feel a familiar sense of dread creeping in. When Melissa starts a sentence like that, it’s usually followed by something that tests every ounce of patience and strength I have.

“What about?” I ask, bracing myself.

“I don’t want to stop here,” she says, her gaze fixed on the forest ahead. “What we did today... it’s not enough. There are more women out there. More like me. More like the ones Unob exploited. I want to help them.”

I exhale slowly, tightening my hold on Koti. “Melissa, you just gave birth. You need time to heal, to recover. You don’t have to save the galaxy right now.”

She turns to face me, her eyes blazing with determination. “If not now, then when? Every day we wait, someone else suffers. Someone else loses hope. I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

Her words cut deep because I know she’s right. But the thought of her putting herself in danger again makes my blood run cold.

“You’re not doing this alone,” I say firmly.

Her expression softens, and she reaches up to cup my face in her hands. “I wasn’t planning to.”

The next morning

Melissa is already awake when I come downstairs, Koti strapped to her chest in the special shirt I had made for her. She’s sitting at the table, a datapad in hand, scrolling through what looks like reports from Cirion.

“You didn’t sleep much,” I say, pouring myself a cup of the strong Selvarian tea we both rely on these days.

“Neither did you,” she counters, giving me a small smile.

I sit across from her, watching as her fingers fly across the datapad. “What’s the plan?”

She looks up at me, her eyes bright with purpose. “Cirion managed to access Unob’s accounts. We’ve got more than enough to start something bigger. A network, maybe. A safe haven for women who’ve been exploited. Somewhere they can rebuild their lives.”

“And where would this network be?” I ask, leaning back in my chair.

Melissa hesitates, biting her lip. “I was thinking... here. On Selvaria.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Here? Melissa, this planet is harsh. The winters alone—”

“That’s why it’s perfect,” she interrupts. “No one would think to look here. It’s isolated, protected. We could build something real, something lasting.”

Her conviction is unwavering, and I realize there’s no point in arguing. When Melissa sets her mind to something, there’s no stopping her.

“Alright,” I say finally. “We’ll do it. But we do it together.”

She reaches across the table, taking my hand in hers. “Always.”

By the end of the week, we’ve contacted Cirion, who agrees to help us set up the infrastructure for the network. Melissa spends hours poring over blueprints and logistics, while I focus on fortifying the cabin and preparing for the arrival of the first group of women.

Koti is never far from Melissa’s side, and I often find myself marveling at how easily she juggles being a mother and a force of nature.

“You’re incredible,” I tell her one evening as we sit by the fire, Koti nestled between us.

She looks at me, surprised. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you are,” I reply simply. “You’ve been through hell, and yet here you are, building a future not just for us, but for so many others.”

She smiles, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I couldn’t do it without you.”

“And you’ll never have to,” I promise, pulling her and Koti closer.

As the fire crackles and the stars shine brightly outside, I feel a sense of hope I haven’t felt in years. Together, we’re creating something new, something good. And for the first time in a long time, I believe in the future.