Enok POV

In the dim light of the small room, I murmur, “Is this heaven?” as I gaze into eyes as deep and blue as the planet I’ve just crashed into.

Hovering above me is a figure straight out of folklore—an angel, perhaps, given her fiery red hair and the smattering of freckles that dance across her nose and cheeks like a constellation.

Her shriek pierces the silence, jolting me from my daze. I recoil, my head thudding against the soft pillow behind me, which only doubles the ache throbbing through my skull. My vision doubles, and for a moment, I see two of her.

“Don’t touch it! You’ll make it bleed again,” she scolds in a tongue foreign yet oddly soothing, even though her words are lost on me.

“What happened?” The question is more for myself than for her, but she seems to understand, her expression morphing into one of deep concern as she continues in her strange, melodic language.

Parched and disoriented, I realize the urgency of contacting my team. The medical supplies and communication tools are still aboard my wrecked ship. I try to rise, intent on returning to my vessel, but dizziness overwhelms me, sending a wave of nausea crashing through my senses.

Gentle yet firm hands press me back onto the bed. She bites her bottom lip, her brow furrowed with worry, as if I were a child insisting on getting up while still too ill. Her care is both comforting and confining.

She offers me a bowl of warm liquid—broth speckled with orange and green herbs that release an earthy aroma. The warmth of the broth seeps into my bones, easing the chill of shock. Grateful, I sip slowly, letting the simple act of tasting ground me back to reality. As the warmth spreads through me, sleep beckons again, coaxed by her tender tucking of the blanket around me, reminiscent of my mother’s care.

I drift off, her soft voice a lullaby that soothes the storm inside me.

A week has passed since my crash-landing. The wreckage of my once-proud vessel yielded little, but with Adamina’s help, I salvaged what could still serve a purpose. Her name, as odd as it is melodic, suits her.

Fortune smiles upon me as my wrist communicator, though battered, survived. As the fog of concussion lifted, I employed it to begin deciphering her language. It’s a painstaking process, but each word captured and translated brings me closer to truly understanding and connecting with her.

Adamina seems equally intrigued by the device. She frequently uses one of the earpieces, listening intently as her words transform into my language. Her fascination is a balm to my frustration; each day without full communication is a day we remain strangers beneath the surface of our budding companionship. Until then, unfortunately, she understands nothing I say. I’ve sent a signal out to the warriors in hopes the signal finds them. So far I have heard nothing.

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She tends to the wound on my head with a frequency that speaks more of her concern than necessity. I know I am capable of caring for myself, yet I find myself yielding to her ministrations. They are acts of kindness that fill a void I hadn’t realized was expanding within me—the void of loneliness, of a life focused solely on duty without the soft touch of affection.

As I ponder these new, unsettling emotions, a familiar rumble tears through the sky—one I’d know anywhere. Relief floods me as Titus’s vessel descends, a beacon of hope. Adamina’s eyes widen with apprehension, and I hasten to reassure her with a smile that feels more strained than I intend. The thought of unworthiness creeping up on me.

“Enok! We thought you were dead!” Titus’s voice booms as he exits his ship, his presence a reminder of the world I belong to—one vastly different from this quiet planet and the delicate, fierce woman who has become my unexpected sanctuary.

Titus stops short upon seeing Adamina, his gaze sweeping over her with a reverence that stirs a protective instinct in me. “A female…” he breathes, as if in prayer.

“Yes,” I affirm, my voice a mixture of pride and warning. Titus’s grin broadens, mischief sparking in his eyes.

“It’s not like that,” I find myself whispering, a flush of heat climbing my cheeks for the first time in decades.

His laughter rings out, clear and teasing. “Are there more?”

The question hangs between us, laden with implications. The air shifts, tension threading through the easy camaraderie. “I must inform the prince. He will be overjoyed at your survival and our hope,” Titus continues, already reaching for his communicator.

“No! Not yet. She needs to understand everything first.” My protest is sharp, driven by a fear I hadn’t acknowledged until now—the fear of losing this unexpected connection, of Adamina being swept into a whirlwind she isn’t prepared for.

Titus’s loyalty wars with his duty, his features tightening. “Alright, but as soon as she agrees to help us, we must act.”

“And if she doesn’t?” My voice hardens, protective instincts flaring.

Titus meets my gaze, his own conflicted. “Enok, she’s captivated by you. Surely, she will choose to come with us.”

His words are meant to reassure, but they only highlight the chasm of cultural and personal misunderstandings between us. Adamina is not a mission to be completed or a prize to be won. She is a woman of strength and depth, who deserves to choose her own destiny.

As we stand there, the foundation of our friendship shaking, I realize that my journey has led me not just across the stars but to a crossroads of heart and duty. How can I reconcile the two without sacrificing the trust I hope to build with her?

“Hey, Enok…?” Titus’s voice breaks through my reverie, lighter now, teasing as he nods toward the window. “The female is running away.”

I curse under my breath, a mix of exasperation and alarm spurring me into motion. My heart races—not with the thrill of the hunt, but with the fear of losing the one person on this strange, war-torn planet who might just be my chance at understanding what it truly means to be connected, to be home.

“Heavens above,” I mutter, rushing after her, hoping I’m not too late to show her that this isn’t just about survival, but about a chance for something deeper, something real.

“Maybe she enjoys a chase?” He teases and I punch him. He laughs it off and rubs his shoulder in complaint as I run toward her home.