Echoes of the Dead Nebula
The trench reeked of blood, an ominous harbinger. Shells exploded, comrades screamed.
That hellish nightmare landscape faded like bleeding watercolor, slowly turning white.
The noise vanished.
The nauseating stench of blood and burning flesh washed away. What remained was a serene garden. And at its center stood she. My first and final light. The only one who taught me warmth amid the battlefield.
“……”
I approached her in a daze. A relief, perhaps. Unlike my other comrades, I'd never seen her end, so she looked as pristine as ever.
In her crisp white uniform, her face unmarred by a speck of dust. She shone dazzlingly, as always.
Colonel Lumina.
My heart clenched. I wanted to rush forward, crush her in an embrace, sob like a child that I'd missed her, demand why she'd left me behind. But I couldn't.
I knew this wasn't real. A mere illusion. The moment I touched her, even this beautiful vision might shatter. So I stopped. Instead, I called her name, pouring my aching longing into it.
“……Lumina.”
My voice rippled softly through the air. She turned slowly. Her clear eyes met mine.
“Warrant Officer Kal.”
That beloved voice. The gentle tone that called me Kal.
“Colonel. At the end… why did you…?”
I wanted to ask. Why she'd saved me. Why she'd shouldered it all alone. But as my lips parted, I realized. No.
What I truly wanted to tell her now wasn't resentment or negativity. I couldn't fill the life she'd sacrificed for with regrets.
Then Lumina spoke first. With sad yet hopeful eyes, she asked,
“Kal. Are you… living an ordinary daily life?”
[Survive. Live on… and try living an ordinary life, away from this damnable war.]
Her final words echoed in my ears. I clenched my fists. Even at the very end, you shake me to my core. That's just who you are.
If this were the me before Eve, I couldn't have answered. Drowning in booze and drugs, scavenging corpses on battlefields like a parasite. That wasn't the 'ordinary life' she'd wished for.
But now was different. In my palm, an invisible warmth lingered.
A little girl who trusted and followed me.
A new world I had to protect, one that called me 'knight'.
Eve.
I gripped that phantom tiny hand tightly. Then, looking straight at Lumina, I said,
“Yes, Lumina.”
No hesitation in my voice now.
“I'm living a peaceful daily life. Made lots of new connections. No more coming home covered in blood like the old battlefields, no more wasting away pointlessly.”
Not a lie. Fugitive life or not, constant tension or not—my soul was calmer than ever.
At my words, Lumina's face lit up radiantly. She smiled softly, relieved.
“Hehe. Good. Really… I'm so glad.”
Her body began to scatter into motes of light. Time for farewell. This time, I'd send her off on my terms.
“Yes. So don't worry about me, Lumina.”
I saluted. Not as a soldier, but as a man offering respect.
“It was good to see you again. Farewell.”
Her form nearly gone, I finally voiced the words buried in my heart.
“Lumina. I… loved you.”
She left no words, only her most beautiful smile. [May you find peace there.] I prayed for her with all my heart. The light faded. The dream ended.
I slowly opened my eyes. Tears wet my lashes. But my chest felt light, unburdened by a heavy stone. Feeling the warmth still in my hand, I turned.
Ziiing—
First thing I saw: enormous eyes, almost too big, staring right at me. Eve.
Squatting by my bed, clutching my hand, peering intently at my face.
“……” “……”
Noses nearly touching.
“E… Eve?”
Flustered, I called her name. She tilted her head.
“Who's Lumina?”
“……? Oh.”
I blanked for a second, then gave a wry smile. Must've been sleep-talking.
“Guess I called out for my old colonel.”
“Colonel? What's that?”
Her eyes widened at the unfamiliar word. I freed my hand and stroked her soft hair.
“Back when I was in the Federation military… she was my superior. A truly great person.”
“Hmm…”
Eve studied my face, then asked cautiously,
“Kal. Do you miss her?”
“Huh? Out of nowhere?”
“First time. Seeing you call someone else's name… so sadly.”
Her sharp insight left me speechless. Kids really are more sensitive to emotions.
But after a proper goodbye, it was different now. Sorrow had turned to fond memory, memory to strength to move forward.
“Nah, I'm fine.”
I smiled at Eve.
“I've got you now, Eve. That's enough for me.”
“Yup!”
She beamed, a smile like a blooming flower.
Feeling guilty for worrying her, I moved to hug her.
“C'mere… Urk!”
My body wouldn't budge. Like invisible ropes binding my torso to the bed.
What the—?
I looked down. And saw it.
Silk?
Thin, transparent silver threads—tougher than steel—wrapped my body tight to the bedframe.
Then I remembered Lydia last night.
'Good thing. Or should I tie you all up snug? My webs are tough.'
“No way… she actually did it…”
Thanks to these, I hadn't wandered in my sleep. Grateful, but way too tight.
“Hang on… If I'm like this, what about the others? Bani? Lydia okay?”
A bad feeling hit. I eyed Nahibi beside Eve.
“Nahibi. Untie these.”
The jelly sprawled out opened eyes.
[Hmph. No. Lowly human, I'm not your convenient tool.]
It huffed and tried closing eyes again.
“Why're you sulking again? Was it 'cause I joked about poking inside yesterday? Sorry. Mean it! Untie me.”
[Eek…! Th-that's not it! Who'd get mad over that!]
Its eyes flushed red. Guilty.
“Sure it is. Fine, I'll do it myself.”
Easier than coaxing this one.
I closed eyes, steadied breath. That sensation from the basilisk fight yesterday. Energy flowing from my heart.
Move.
Hot surge raced through veins to arm muscles. Not mere strength—destructive force to twist structures.
Crack. Snap!
[……?!]
With Nahibi's shocked ripple, Lydia's webs snapped like nothing.
[Lowly human! What was that power?!]
“Just grasped it yesterday… Anyway.”
I shook off strands, sat up, scooped Eve.
“Let's go, Eve. Check on the others.”
Bani's tale of the Echoes of the Dead Nebula. Experiencing it firsthand, no mere superstition. This wasn't ordinary nightmare.
Headed to Lydia's room first. Rang the chime at her door.
No response.
“Lydia? You in there?”
Still nothing.
“No choice. AI, authorizing emergency override as captain. Open Lydia's quarters.”
Door slid open. Room webbed head to toe—ceiling, walls, floor tangled in white silk. Lydia lay bound tight in the center bed, by her own threads.
“Hic… Sorry… Arin, I'm so sorry…”
Sweating cold, sobbing. Face twisted in agony.
“I… I was too late…”
No trace of her usual boldness. Some old wound tormenting her.
“Kal. Why's Lydia-sis crying? Hurt? Injured?”
Eve tugged my sleeve worriedly. I set her down, knelt to her level.
“Eve. Pain isn't just from body hurts. Heart hurts too. Sis is having a scary dream, hurting her heart.”
“Heart hurts…?”
Eve tilted head, then scampered to the bed. Climbed atop Lydia's webbed form.
“Sis! Sad? Hug!”
Eve hugged Lydia's neck tight. Tiny warmth transferred. Miraculously, Lydia's nightmare sobs steadied, breath calming.
I watched Eve share her heart's warmth, stroked her head.
“Good job, Eve. You're a star.”
“Hehe.”
But Lydia hadn't fully woken.
Seeing even her tormented confirmed: not mere dreams.
I eyed Nahibi floating grimly.
“Nahibi. You know, right? What this is.”
[What. Nothing special.]
“This? First time for nightmares this vivid.”
Nahibi's red eyes gleamed.
[Xenoforms communicate via waves, not words. Joy, rage, fear, killing intent… Emotions scatter as waves into space.]
It prodded the air.
[This nebula's structure traps them. A vast sea of xenoform emotions converging as language.]
“Just language causes this?”
[Yes. You lowly humans lack mental barriers, so brains sync to the wave-sea. Deep fears and traumas forcibly replayed.]
Made sense. But a question lingered.
“Wait. Bani said it was bad before, but nearly gone lately.”
Looked at Nahibi.
[War thinned xenoform numbers, diluting waves. Phenomenon faded.]
“Then contradiction. Why now?”
Nahibi rippled like a smirk.
[Simple, isn't it, lowly human?]
Its eyes chilled.
[Waves strengthening means 'quantity' refilled.]
“……!”
My face paled as meaning sank in.
“You mean… xenoform numbers… rising again?”
[Massively. Enough to refill this nebula with screams.]
Nahibi drove it home.
The massive Sector 11 invasion that took Lumina.
That nightmare felt less dream, more harbinger of reality.