On the first day, Magnolia sat on her bed, the datapad clutched tightly in her hands. She didn’t open it, didn’t even look at it, but its weight seemed unbearable, tethering her to the gravity of everything she’d lost.
On the second day, she forced herself to move. She connected the datapad to her tablet, beginning the tedious process of uploading its contents. The files were dense, fragmented, and riddled with encryption, but she worked methodically, refusing to let the obstacles win. Somewhere in these files was the key to everything—the Dragon’s Cradle, the Syndicate’s plans, her father’s final gambit.
On the third and fourth days, she didn’t leave the navigation room. With her tablet glowing faintly beside her, she immersed herself in star charts, notes, and scrambled data. The Dragon’s Cradle remained her focus, but something else pulled at her attention—an anomaly, half-hidden in the datapad’s fragmented logs. It was clear the Syndicate was hunting it, and if they wanted it, she was determined to reach it first.
On the fifth day, she returned to her quarters for the first time since she’d started. Her steps faltered as her gaze landed on the *Pets* and their crates, still perfectly aligned against the wall. The Pets stood silently, their glowing forms almost blending with the ambient light. They watched her with that same eerie stillness that made her stomach twist. Magnolia hesitated, her voice cracking as she finally acknowledged them. “Don’t… touch the crates,” she said, though the words sounded more like a command to herself than to them. The *Pets* inclined their heads slightly, their bioluminescent patterns flickering faintly in acknowledgment, but otherwise remained motionless.
On the sixth day, the Wildflower reached the edge of known systems. The ship hummed softly, its presence in her mind pulsing with quiet anticipation. Magnolia stood on the bridge, her tired eyes fixed on the star-speckled expanse beyond the viewport.
Hanjoon stepped up beside her, his quiet presence grounding. “We’re here,” he said, his voice low.
Magnolia gripped the edge of the console, her knuckles whitening as she exhaled slowly. Her father’s death, the weight of the Syndicate, the path ahead—it all pressed heavily on her, but she refused to let it break her.
“It’s just the beginning,” she murmured, her voice resolute despite her exhaustion.
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Hanjoon’s gaze flicked toward her, his golden eyes steady. “Then let’s make it count.”
The stars glittered across the viewport like scattered diamonds, a serene backdrop to the tension coiling in the bridge. Overlaid against the expanse was a faint holographic projection, a convergence of navigation data, Wildflower's radar readings, and the fragments from the datapad. It painted a detailed but cryptic map across the cosmos, one only Magnolia seemed able to parse.
“There’s an anomaly,” Magnolia said, her voice distant yet charged with purpose. Her eyes deepened to a dark purple, the telltale sign of her connection to the *Wildflower* flaring to life. She wasn’t just looking at the map—she was immersed in it, seeing what Wildflower’s sensors saw, layered with the intimate knowledge from her navigation room and the encrypted files she’d spent days decoding.
“Just there,” she said, lifting a hand to point toward a barely perceptible distortion in the hologram. It shimmered faintly, like a ripple in still water, before stabilizing into something vaguely defined.
Hanjoon followed her gaze but frowned. “I don’t see anything.”
Sela crossed her arms, a skeptical edge creeping into her tone. “What anomaly?” It was her first time witnessing Magnolia in the throes of a treasure hunt, and the sight was equal parts mesmerizing and unsettling. The shift in Magnolia’s demeanor—from quiet grief to razor-sharp focus—had been swift, and Sela wasn’t sure if she admired or feared it.
Magnolia didn’t answer immediately, her eyes locked on the faint distortion in the projection. It pulsed subtly, its pattern irregular but insistent, drawing her attention like a whispered promise.
“I don’t know,” she said finally, her voice low but resolute. “But whatever it is, we need to get there before the Syndicate.”
Sela’s jaw tightened as she glanced toward Hanjoon. He met her gaze, his expression unreadable, but there was a quiet trust in his stance. Magnolia might not have all the answers, but her instincts were rarely wrong—and she was the one tied to the ship, to the map, and to the storm brewing ahead.
Sela sighed, breaking the tense silence. “Alright, Captain. Let’s chase your ghost.”
Hanjoon moved to the console, his hands steady as he keyed in the coordinates Magnolia indicated. “Brace yourselves,” he said. “This is going to be a fast run.”
Magnolia didn’t move, her eyes fixed on the anomaly, her connection to the *Wildflower* pulsing stronger with each breath. The ship seemed to respond, its engines humming with a low, eager rhythm as if it, too, felt the urgency of the hunt.