[center][h3]Things We Don’t Say Aloud - Chapter 1: A Place for Dawn[/h3][/center] Interlocked hands absorbed the faint chill of the concrete beneath their palms as two adventurous souls sat side by side, feet dangling from the edge of the only structure in the Château that dared stand half as tall as the Veylthorne estate. Despite the monolith, symbol of the might of the throne, domineering over the remaining Katurans aboard the mothership, in this moment, it was just them. Dragoș and Mărseana. [b][i]“Look at them up there...We're your saviors! Worship the ground we walk on! They’re everything Leontin said they are.”[/i][/b] Dragoș was not enamored by the very people he served. Not everyone was thankful for the Veylthorn’s wartime heroics. Some even blamed them. The war, as brutal and grotesque as it was, had served as a useful tool—a convenient distraction from the centuries of systemic, socioeconomic division between the people and the elite. Katuran’s for decades could only focus on survival. In the aftermath, people lost their champion, Leontin Bradin. The resistance movement once led by him vanished on the battlefield, with many still believing he’s out there somewhere… lost in the vast expanse of space. The man was gone, but the vision remained… [b][i]“That was your hero, wasn’t it?”[/i][/b][i] [/i]The woman beside the soldier teased him a bit, as he often quoted the absent leader of the revolution. Trying not to ruin the moment, Dragoș quickly understood the point of the tease[i].[/i][i][b]“Mărseana, how long has it been since you've seen a real sunset?” [/b][/i] He turned to her as she blinked slowly, turning just enough for her wine-red irises to catch the light. She gazed back at him through as much as her auburn bangs with silver roots allowed her to. [i][b]“I don't know. You probably weren't even a teen yet.”[/b][/i] He grinned. [i][b]“Funny. Your hair may be losing color, but you're not even thirty yet.”[/b][/i] [b][i]“I still look younger than you, four years your senior. Don't forget that,”[/i][/b] she said with a half-smile. But then, her gaze turned distant. [b][i]“The last sunset that ever meant anything to me…It was the day we all bid farewell to Katur. I miss it—”[/i][/b] she sighed deeply. [b][i]“Maybe that chapter has written its last line. We’ve only just set foot on this world, and perhaps… It’s time we look at dawn for once.”[/i][/b] Stunned a little, Dragoș understood her sentiment to the core of his soul. He stood up, hands clenched loosely at his sides as he stared toward the looming estate in the distance. [b][i]“That would be nice. Let's see a real dawn then and every night after that, forever.”[/i][/b] [i][b]“What about your sist–”[/b][/i] [b][i]“Don't worry. Crina’s pretty tough. It's not like the military will let her go so easily. She’s way too important compared to my standing in it. Plus, she has Franche to look over.”[/i][/b] Mărseana raised an eyebrow. [b][i]“You didn't tell her about your plan either?”[/i][/b] [i][b]“Of course not. She'd try to follow me. Plus, once we find something nice–”[/b][/i] [b][i]“If.”[/i][/b] [i][b]“Whatever. The orbital scans picked up signs—cities, infrastructure, patterns in the wild. There’s life here. And I’m legally obligated to scout for Katur.”[/b][/i] With a bit of a puzzled look, Mărseana started to think, instinctively placing her index along her bottom lip. [i][b]“My request was denied for some reason, and I rank higher than you. It could be that the regime sees me as a promising military mind?”[/b][/i] [b][i]“Or perhaps they don't mind if young troubled soldiers like myself with a history die off. I guess I’m expendable now that the war is over.”[/i][/b] [i][b]“That's also an option.”[/b][/i][i] [/i]She laughed a little. Failing to return a chuckle, Dragoș spoke very clearly and with the utmost conviction in his voice.[i][b]“Perhaps. But you're coming with me.”[/b][/i] Shocked, Mărseana immediately thought of the potential consequences but attempted to turn it into a joke.[i][b]“I don't know. What if they send Scions after us?”[/b][/i] [b][i]“Shhh! Don't say that too loud!”[/i][/b][i] [/i]Dragoș' expression turned intense. [i][b]“What, you believe the stories I found in my grandmother's cellar are true? Conspiracy, Elder Vampires, The Cruciata, blood sacrifices, the silent war? You believe all of that?”[/b][/i] [b][i]“I know it. Veylthornes and many of the noble families. They’re not regular Katurans. They’re vampires. I’ve seen it… Prince Lazarel–”[/i][/b] Mărseana’s hands stiffened in his. Her jaw tensed. Her eyes, now turned inward, lost their focus entirely[i].[/i][b]“My grandmother wasn't well when she wrote all of that… She tried… to kill me once–”[/b][i] [/i]Her lips parted, but it was hollow with no sound as the thought of her past strangled her vocal cords. Swallowing, Dragoș squeezed her hand a bit. [i][b]“Only God knows what else she knew that drove her to try to take out her only living relative… The truths she carried…”[/b][/i] Mărseana's heart skipped. Their previously playful conversation turned dark as she couldn’t bridge the depth of the trauma she had just revisited. Looking deeply into his still youthful but war-weary face bearing a jagged scar running diagonally across his left brow, she couldn’t reply. As their exchange faltered, the entire Château itself quaked beneath them, obsidian bones flexing. It trembled, not from within, as it often did when dark magicks stirred, but from the outside. A colossal swell, a tsunami, summoned by the anomaly moving in the Inland Sea, bull-rushed the ship’s northern face, even nudging it a bit. Built to withstand the harshness of space warfare, the ship was by no means in danger, but it was unprecedented how strong this surge managed to become. Within moments, crimson emergency sigils ignited along the halls as divisions of the Caelira were mobilized. Knights in carmine exo-armor stormed to triage points and breach locks, while the command choir chanted stabilization protocols to ensure reality seams were intact. Internally, and externally, there was no damage, but half the armada docked on the shore was ravaged by the blackened sea. Still clad in uniform, Dragoș and Mărseana moved without hesitation, stepping into their duties as soldiers, the notion of escape locked away—for now. What a timely interruption, breaking the awkward silence, but their thoughts lingered on. This was about as good a time as possible to do it.