Thriexa Aizih POV

  The world was about to change, and so was my place in it. Soon, my face would be known to humans across this planet. I would no longer be a quiet observer, hidden in the shadows of secrecy. I would be the center of a storm I could not yet predict.

  But tonight, I was still unknown. Tonight, I wanted to see his world before mine was revealed to it.

  I found Jace standing near one of the safehouse windows, staring out at the city skyline, his posture tense. The lights of Washington, D.C., stretched out in front of him, a contrast of beauty and artificiality, nothing like the organic, living structures of the Eova.

  “Jace,” I said, stepping beside him. He turned to look at me, his gaze questioning. “Show me your world.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  I gave him a small smile. “Before the world knows who I am, before I am no longer able to walk freely, I want to see this place. I want to experience your world as you have experienced mine. Take me into your city.”

  Jace hesitated, clearly weighing the risks. “It’s not safe. You know that.”

  “Not yet,” I admitted. “But right now, no one knows who I am. No one is searching for me. I want to see it through your eyes, just for one night.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “You really want to do this?”

  I nodded. “I do.”

  For a moment, he studied me, then let out a short laugh. “Alright, but if we’re doing this, we’re doing it carefully. No one recognizes you yet, but I still don’t like taking chances. You stick close to me.”

  “Agreed.” I held out my hand. “Then, shall we?”

  He shook his head but took my hand anyway, leading me toward the door. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  Neither could I. But for one night, I wasn’t the Aizih. I wasn’t a leader, an ambassador, or a figure for history to remember.

  Tonight, I was just someone exploring a new world.

  Jace took me through the heart of Washington, D.C., showing me places that he said held the weight of human history. We walked along the National Mall, past grand monuments dedicated to leaders long gone. The Lincoln Memorial, with its towering columns and solemn presence, seemed to hold an unspoken reverence in the air. Jace explained that Lincoln had led his nation through one of its greatest internal conflicts, a war that had nearly torn it apart.

  I traced my fingers along the cool marble of the memorial. “Humans build these to remember?”

  Jace nodded. “Yeah. To honor those who changed the course of history. Some good, some… not so good. But history matters. It shapes everything.”

  I gazed up at the statue of Lincoln, my mind drifting to the memories I had shared with his people. “I understand that. Our history—our losses—are what brought us here.”

  Jace was quiet for a moment before he finally spoke. “During the meeting with the President… I know I heard your story, but feeling it… it was different. I wasn’t just watching. I was there. I felt the heat of Aizilaha’s destruction. I felt Sculki’s pain, Algoks’ urgency. It was… intense.”

  I turned to him, watching the way his brow furrowed slightly, his mind still lingering in the past I had given him a glimpse of. “That was why we showed you. Words alone would never be enough. You had to understand our pain.”

  He exhaled, shaking his head. “I do. More than I thought I would.”

  We continued walking in silence for a few minutes before he asked, “Are there any other Aurra? Besides you and your mother?”

  A familiar ache pressed against my chest. “No,” I admitted softly. “The Aurra nation was destroyed when the asteroid struck Aizilaha. My grandparents were the only survivors.”

  Jace stopped walking, turning to look at me fully. “So, you’re it. The last of your people.”

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  “Not forever,” I said, my voice steady despite the weight of what I was about to say. “It is my responsibility to bear another Aurra heir. I must ensure the survival of my nation. The repopulation of the Aurra rests with me.”

  Jace’s expression shifted—something unreadable flickering across his face. “That’s… a lot of pressure.”

  I managed a small smile, though the reality of it was anything but light. “It is what must be done. I am the Aizih. My duty is not just to the Eova but to my own people—what remains of them.”

  For a moment, Jace didn’t say anything, his eyes searching mine as if trying to comprehend the full weight of my words. Finally, he nodded. “Then I guess you don’t just carry the past—you carry the future too.”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “I always have.”

  We continued walking, the sounds of the city wrapping around us. The soft glow of streetlights bathed everything in golden hues, making the night feel warmer than it was. I felt the cool breeze brush against my skin, but I barely noticed it.

  Jace led me toward the reflecting pool, where the water shimmered, mirroring the city lights above us. The sight was breathtaking in its simplicity.

  “It’s beautiful,” I murmured.

  Jace glanced at me, but his gaze lingered longer this time. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter. “It is.”

  Something about the moment made my heart feel lighter, the weight of my responsibilities temporarily forgotten. Here, beneath the stars of a world not yet my own, I felt something rare—peace.

  And for the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to simply exist in it.

  Jace Strickland POV

  I watched her as she stood near the reflecting pool, the soft glow of the city lights casting a golden hue over her face. The way she looked at everything—the water, the sky, the distant hum of the city—like she was drinking it all in, memorizing it before it could slip away.

  She had shown me her world, her history, her pain. And now, I was showing her mine. But as much as I had wanted to give her this moment, I realized something—Thriexa wasn’t just experiencing this city. She was becoming a part of it.

  I had always seen her as powerful, confident, someone carrying the weight of her people’s survival. But here, beneath the human disguise and the title of Aizih, she was something else. Someone who, despite the burdens placed upon her, still found wonder in the simplest things. Someone who had lost so much but still carried hope.

  And that did something to me.

  I didn’t just admire her. I wanted to protect her. Not because she was weak—she was anything but. But because I knew how much she carried, how much she had lost, and how much she still had to give.

  She turned to me, her violet eyes searching mine. “Jace?”

  I swallowed, forcing a small smile. “Just making sure you’re still here.”

  She gave a quiet laugh. “I am. For now.”

  And I silently promised myself—as long as she was here, I would stand beside her.

  Thriexa Aizih POV

  We walked further into the heart of the city, the streets quieter at this hour, the rush of daily life slowing into something more intimate. As we moved, our hands brushed briefly, and though it was an accident, neither of us pulled away immediately. A warmth lingered there, something unspoken but present nonetheless.

  Jace led me to a street vendor tucked in a corner near the National Mall. He handed over a few bills in exchange for two small, wrapped objects and then turned back to me, pressing one into my hand. It was a small metal keychain, shaped like the Washington Monument.

  “A little keepsake,” he said, his voice lighter than before. “Something to remind you of Earth—of tonight.”

  I studied the trinket in my palm, feeling its weight. “You didn’t have to do this.”

  “I know,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “But… you showed me your world. I figured it was only fair to give you something from mine.”

  The gesture was small, but it meant something. I clasped the keychain in my palm, tracing its edges before Jace reached forward.

  “Here,” he said, voice softer now. “Let me put it on you.”

  I hesitated, but then nodded, watching as he carefully fastened the small metal ring onto a chain he had bought along with it. His fingers brushed against my skin as he settled the pendant around my neck, the warmth of his touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

  “Thank you, Jace,” I murmured, feeling the weight of it settle over my heart.

  He smiled, just slightly, before nodding toward the next street. “Come on, there’s something else I want to show you.”

  As we continued through the quiet city, the conversation shifted. “You’ve spent your life running from one planet to the next,” Jace said after a while, his voice thoughtful. “Did you ever let yourself just… stop? Even for a little while?”

  I hesitated before answering. “No. There was always another move, another transition. Even when we found somewhere stable, it never lasted. I’ve never allowed myself to become attached to a place, not truly.”

  “And now?” he asked, watching me closely. “Do you think this place could be different?”

  I looked around at the streets, at the reflections of the city lights in the windows, at the way Jace moved through it all so naturally. I wanted to believe Earth could be different. That maybe, just maybe, this could be a place where we stayed.

  “I don’t know yet,” I admitted honestly. “But I want to find out.”

  He took me to one more place—an overlook where the city stretched out before us, lights twinkling in the darkness, the quiet hum of life all around us. I stood beside him, taking it all in, and for the first time, I felt something unfamiliar stir within me.

  Admiration. Not just for Jace, but for the way he saw his world, the way he wanted me to see it too. I had traveled across galaxies, lived on planets beyond human imagination, but I had never seen someone’s home through their own eyes. Not like this.

  Something was changing within me.

  I had never felt this way for someone who wasn’t Eova.

  I glanced at Jace, the glow of the city lights reflecting in his eyes, and something inside me whispered that this moment—this night—would stay with me long after I leave this world.

  And for the first time in a long while, I wasn’t afraid of that.