Date

The city of Militia stretched before them in a dazzling sprawl of warm lantern light and dimly glowing streets, a stark contrast to the cold, metallic silence of the Nyxian frontier they had left behind. But before they could fully step into this new world, there was one more thing they had to do.

They had to change.

Not far from the border, beneath the massive trunk of a tree whose gnarled roots twisted into the earth like veins, they found a quiet, desolate spot. The branches stretched overhead, sheltering them from prying eyes. Here, for the first time in what felt like forever, they were alone.

Neon set down the bundle of Militian clothes he had kept in his bag and exhaled. "We should change before we get any closer."

Aria nodded, glancing down at their Nyxian uniforms—stiff, dark, and unmistakable. There was no room for hesitation. But as she reached for the fresh set of clothes, the realization hit her.

They would have to undress. Right here.

Together.

A sudden tension thickened the air, subtle but impossible to ignore. Neon turned his back to her, gripping the hem of his shirt. "I won’t look."

Aria swallowed, a faint flush creeping up her neck as she slowly turned around with her back to Neon. "Neither will I."

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, in careful, calculated motions, they began stripping out of their uniforms. The air was cool against their skin, and every rustle of fabric felt impossibly loud in the quiet of the night. Aria kept shooting glances over to the tree trunk behind her, hyper-aware of Neon just behind it, his presence electric in the silence.

She could hear him move, hear the quiet hitch in his breath as he pulled on a shirt. The idea of him standing there, only half-dressed, sent a wave of heat up her spine.

Neon, on the other hand, was doing everything he could to keep his focus forward. The knowledge that Aria was mere a few steps behind her, just as vulnerable as he was, made his heart pound harder than any battlefield ever had. He flexed his fingers, forcing himself to concentrate on the buttons of his fabric.

A gust of wind swept through, and Aria let out a small gasp as the chill hit her bare back. Neon stiffened, his instinct to turn almost overpowering—but he didn’t. Instead, he closed his eyes for a second, steadying himself, sighing.

“Almost done?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

“Almost,” she answered, quickly tying the laces of her boots.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they were both dressed. Aria exhaled, turning around hesitantly—just as Neon did the same. They froze, catching each other’s gazes for a fraction of a second before Aria looked away, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Not a word,” she muttered.

The strange tension lingered between them, unspoken but palpable, as they left the shelter of the tree and stepped toward their destination, walking further away form the Frontier.

“You really want to see the fireflies?” he asked after a few minutes of quiet walking. His voice was low, almost hesitant. "Or are we going there simply because of me?"

"Do you wanna go or not?"

He nodded his approval.

Aria turned to him, a slow smile touching her lips. “Then I don´t particularly care. It has been a long time since I last came in these parts anyway.”

The air was different here—softer, fragrant with the scent of distant pines and the crisp whisper of autumn leaves. It carried a gentleness that neither of them had felt in the last few weeks, a quiet that didn’t hum with the ever-present tension of war.

They walked side by side through the outskirts of the city, leaving behind the brightly-lit bustle for quieter streets. The further they ventured, the less the city encroached, until the roads gave way to uneven dirt paths, and the sharp glow softened into the natural luminescence of the stars overhead.

Neon had never been one for nostalgia, but there was something about the way Aria’s boots pressed into the damp earth, the way her fingers brushed against the tall grass absentmindedly, that made the moment feel surreal. 

Like they were part of something that had existed long before them and would exist long after.

“Back in the palace when I was a child,” Aria murmured, breaking the silence, “I used to dream about this.”

He glanced at her, waiting.

“I’d close my eyes and picture myself in a place like this. Where there were no people, no construction, no soldiers warning us of another breach. Just the sound of the wind and—” She trailed off as a flicker of light danced in the distance. Her breath hitched. “And fireflies.”

Neon followed her gaze. The field before them was alive with them, tiny golden sparks drifting lazily in the air like weightless embers, blinking in and out of existence. They wove intricate patterns against the deep blue night, a quiet part of nature so delicate, so untouched, that he almost felt like an intruder.

"Not everything needs wires to glow, you know..."

Aria stepped forward, moving carefully through the swaying grass, her eyes reflecting the glow around her. She lifted a hand, palm upturned, and one of the fireflies settled against her skin for a fleeting second before flitting away. She laughed softly, a sound so rare and light that Neon felt something tighten in his chest.

He watched as she turned in slow circles, arms outstretched, letting the tiny lights swirl around her like a constellation. The way she moved—graceful, uninhibited, free—was different from the Aria on the battlefield. There was no tension in her shoulders, no sharpness in her stance. Just quiet awe, as if she were rediscovering something she had lost long ago. 

He decided he preferred her like this, warmhearted and innocent, away from the battlefield.

“You’re staring,” she said without looking at him.

Neon exhaled a soft chuckle. “You look happy.”

Aria stopped spinning, her gaze finding his in the dark. “I think I am,” she admitted, almost surprised by her own words.

A breeze stirred the field, carrying the faint scent of rain. Neon stepped forward, closing the space between them until they were standing among the fireflies together. He lifted a hand hesitantly, brushing his fingers against hers. Aria didn’t pull away.

"The heat between us whenever we touched, it´s vanished since the last few weeks," he said, instantly regretting the useless remark. They both already knew that. He felt a sudden warmth of embarrassment.

“I never really thought about what life would look like after the war,” he confessed. “It was always just… survival. One fight after the next. But this—” He gestured toward the field, toward the sky, toward her. “It doesn’t feel like just survival.”

Aria looked at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she turned her hand beneath his, fingers threading through his own.

They stood there, fingers intertwined, watching the fireflies flicker against the vast darkness. Time slowed. The war, the scars, the burdens they carried—none of it mattered in this moment.

"There´s surely much more to life, than just fighting to survive..."

Neon had never believed in fate. But as he watched Aria’s face illuminated by the soft golden glow, he thought that maybe, just maybe, they were meant to find their way here together.

And for the first time in a long time, the future didn’t seem so distant.