starbound obsession

The piano sat silent again as the house shifted into its uneasy rhythm. Somber’s hands rested on the keys, her fingers tracing their smooth surface like a map she knew by heart. She couldn’t see the light filtering through the curtains or the gun sitting atop the piano, but their presence was etched into her mind. Every sound in the house, every shift in the air, painted a picture more vivid than sight ever could.

Azari was somewhere nearby. Somber could feel her—not hear her, but sense her in the way the atmosphere shifted whenever she was close. It unnerved her how quietly Azari moved, how deliberate every step seemed. No normal person carried themselves like that.

That thought alone sent a shiver through Somber.

She pulled her hands away from the piano and stood, feeling her way along the edge of the instrument until she reached the chair near the window. The world outside was a distant concept, defined only by faint warmth on her face and the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. It was peaceful, but Somber didn’t trust it. Peace was a lie. She knew that better than anyone.

Her fingers traced the arm of the chair as her thoughts returned to Azari’s cryptic words. Forces in this universe you cannot comprehend. It sounded absurd, like something out of a story. But was it any more absurd than the towering stranger who had appeared in her home, speaking in that calm, steady tone that both soothed and unsettled her?

The faintest shift in the air behind her made Somber tense. Azari was there. Not close, but close enough.

“Are you feeling better?” Azari’s voice broke the silence, soft but unyielding.

Somber turned her head slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Better than what? Being trapped in this house with someone I don’t trust?”

Azari didn’t respond right away. Somber could imagine her standing there, calm and unshaken, her face unreadable. “I meant physically,” Azari said. “You’ve been tense for days. It’s not good for your health.”

“I’ll survive,” Somber muttered, her fingers tightening against the armrest.

She heard the quiet shuffle of Azari stepping closer, her movements deliberate. “You’ve been carrying so much, Somber,” Azari said softly. “It’s no wonder you feel like you’re breaking under the weight of it.”

Somber’s jaw clenched. The words hit too close to home. “You don’t know me,” she snapped, her voice sharp. “You don’t know what I’ve been through.”

“No,” Azari admitted, her voice steady. “I don’t know everything. But I know what fear sounds like. And I know what it feels like to carry it alone.”

The words sliced through Somber’s defenses, but she refused to let it show. “I don’t need your pity,” she said, though her voice trembled slightly. “I’ve handled worse on my own. I’ll handle this too.”

“You don’t have to,” Azari said quietly.

The calm assurance in her tone made something crack inside Somber, though she buried it quickly, retreating behind the walls she had built around herself. “What I need,” she said, her voice hardening, “is the truth. Why are you here? Who sent you? And why do they think I need protecting?”

There was a long silence, so thick that Somber could almost hear Azari thinking. Finally, Azari’s voice came, softer than before. “The truth isn’t something I can give you all at once,” she said. “Not yet. But I promise you this—I’m not here to hurt you. And I’m not here to take anything from you.”

Somber’s fingers tightened against the armrest. “Then what do you want?”

Azari hesitated, and for the first time, Somber thought she heard uncertainty in her voice. “I want you to believe that you’re not as alone as you think you are,” Azari said.

The words hung in the air, delicate but unbreakable. Somber turned her face slightly, as though trying to catch an expression she couldn’t see. Instead, she listened—to the faint rhythm of Azari’s breathing, to the stillness in her voice.

“I don’t believe you,” Somber said finally, though her voice lacked the conviction it once had.

Azari didn’t argue. Instead, she turned and walked away, her footsteps soft but steady.

For the rest of the day, Somber found herself sitting by the piano again, her hands brushing the keys but never playing. The gun was still there, resting in the same spot she had left it. She didn’t reach for it, but she couldn’t bring herself to move it either.

The weight of trust, of doubt, of fear—it all pressed down on her like a storm cloud, threatening to drown her.

And yet, somewhere deep inside, a tiny seed of something new had been planted.

Hope.