22. Valen

CHAPTER 22

VALEN

I find Ariana in the garden, meticulously arranging a bed of vibrant flowers. Her focus is intense, her fingers moving deftly among the petals. I pause, watching her for a moment before stepping closer.

"Ariana," I call out, my voice low but firm. She looks up, surprise flickering in her wide brown eyes. "I need your opinion on something."

Her brow furrows. "My opinion? About what?"

"Tonight’s gala," I say, folding my arms across my chest. "A lot of important people in the mining industry will be there. I want to inspire them to think of Armstrong’s future, not just their bottom line."

She blinks, clearly taken aback. "You want my thoughts on that? I’m just a maid."

I step closer, my gaze steady on hers. "You’re more than that. You were born here. You have a stake in Armstrong’s future."

Ariana looks down at the flowers, her hands stilling. “Well... Armstrong used to be beautiful before the war,” she murmurs.

"Go on," I encourage, intrigued by the direction she’s taking.

"I feel like a lot of these people could benefit from seeing how Armstrong was before." She lifts her eyes to meet mine, a spark of determination there. "We could collect old holo photos of Armstrong from before the war and show them at the gala. Remind everyone how beautiful it was and what it could be again."

A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. It’s a simple yet powerful idea. “That’s brilliant,” I say.

Her cheeks flush with color, and she looks away, flustered. “I-I didn’t think you’d actually like it.”

“I do,” I insist, my tone unwavering. “It’s exactly what we need.”

She bites her lip, considering my words. “Alright then. I can help gather the holo photos if you want. I think my father has some in storage.”

“I’d appreciate that,” I say softly.

She nods, a small smile curving her lips as she stands up and brushes dirt from her dress.

“Thank you for trusting me with this,” she says quietly.

“You’ve earned it,” I reply, unable to keep the admiration from my voice.

As she walks away to start on her task, I can’t help but feel a swell of pride and something deeper—something more profound—at having her by my side.

And just like that, Ariana continues to surprise me in ways I never thought possible.

The holo projector hums to life, casting a soft glow in the dim room. Ariana stands beside me, holding a stack of holo videos from her father's collection. She handles them with care, her movements precise and reverent.

“Here,” she says, passing me one. “This one shows Armstrong’s forests before the war.”

I take it from her, our fingers brushing briefly. “Thank you,” I murmur, slotting the vid into the projector. The room fills with an image of lush greenery, trees stretching towards a clear sky. Birds flit through the branches, and a stream gurgles peacefully.

Ariana watches, her eyes wide with nostalgia. “It’s beautiful,” she whispers.

“It is,” I agree. The sight tugs at something deep inside me—an echo of what my own home once looked like.

She turns to me, her expression earnest. “I’m glad my father kept these. It’s important to remember what we’re working towards.”

“I owe your father another debt of gratitude,” I say softly, thinking of how the man's previous research is already reaping benefits for my business.

Ariana hesitates, biting her lip. “Valen… could you ever have a relationship with your own father? Maybe you could meet and talk? It's been a long time, hasn't it? Surely he misses you.”

The question hits me like a punch to the gut. I straighten, the sorrow welling up inside threatening to choke me. “Ariana… my father is gone.”

She blinks, confusion knitting her brow. “Gone?”

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to meet her gaze. “Remember how I mentioned that the weapons I helped build destroyed my home planet?”

Her eyes widen with sudden understanding. “Oh no… Valen…”

“Yes,” I say quietly, each word heavy with grief. “The rest of my family died that day too.”

Ariana gasps, covering her mouth with her hand. Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears as she steps closer to me, reaching out hesitantly before letting her hand fall back to her side.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

“Don’t be,” I reply, though my voice wavers slightly. “It’s something I have to live with every day.”

She looks up at me, determination mingling with sorrow in her gaze. “You don’t have to bear it alone anymore.”

Her words offer a strange comfort—one that I’ve long since forgotten how to accept. But here she is, standing beside me amidst the ruins of our shared histories, offering solace without expecting anything in return.

I nod slowly, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. “Thank you,” I manage to say.

She gives me a small, encouraging smile and reaches out again, this time placing her hand gently on my arm. The warmth of her touch seeps through the fabric of my sleeve, grounding me in the present moment.

Together we stand there in silence for a while longer as the holo vid continues to play—a reminder of what was lost and what we still hope to rebuild.

And for the first time in years, amidst all my guilt and sorrow, there’s a glimmer of something else: hope.

The gala is in full swing, the chatter of guests filling the grand hall. My eyes scan the room, landing on Ariana. She’s working with the waitstaff, her presence a calming beacon amidst the extravagance. The holo projector stands ready, waiting for my signal.

I step onto the stage, and the room falls silent. “Ladies and gentlemen,” I begin, my voice steady and commanding. “Tonight, I want to show you something.”

With a nod to my aide, the holo projector springs to life. Images of Armstrong’s lush forests and thriving wildlife appear, bathing the room in a soft glow. Gasps ripple through the audience as they take in the scenes of natural beauty long lost to war.

A long extinct, four legged creature with enormous horns and long, shaggy fur walks along a now polluted creek. Birds fly in large packs across the sunset. Children play in a lush, green field without a care for shrapnel or unexploded artillery.

One woman in the audience dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief, visibly moved by the images. Even the waitstaff pause, their usual tasks forgotten as they take in what used to be their home. I let the silence linger for a moment before speaking again.

“This is Armstrong,” I say, my voice resonating through the hall. “Or rather, this was Armstrong before the war tore it apart.”

The images shift to scenes of devastation—crumbling buildings, scorched earth, and barren landscapes. The stark contrast elicits a collective shudder from the audience.

“We have a duty,” I continue, my tone firm and unwavering. “Not just to our shareholders but to everyone who shares this world with us.”

Murmurs of agreement ripple through the crowd as I step forward, my gaze sweeping over them.

“That’s why I’m announcing a new initiative—our corporation will restore Armstrong’s environment and establish sustainable mining practices.”

The room erupts into applause, but my eyes are fixed on Ariana. She’s watching me with a mix of awe and something deeper—something that tugs at my heartstrings.

“We’ll invest in reforestation,” I add over the applause, “and develop technologies that minimize environmental impact.”

The applause grows louder, and I take a step back, letting them absorb my words. Ariana’s face lights up with hope and gratitude—a sight that fills me with renewed determination.

As I descend from the stage, Ariana approaches me cautiously. Her eyes are shimmering with unshed tears.

“Valen,” she whispers, her voice trembling slightly.

I take her hand in mine, squeezing it gently. “Are you alright?”

She nods slowly. “Thank you,” she says softly. “For everything.”

I give her a small smile. “It’s only the beginning,” I promise.

She looks up at me with those wide brown eyes filled with trust and admiration—a look that makes me want to move mountains for her.

I lead Ariana through a maze of hallways until we reach a secluded balcony. She leans against the railing, looking out over the garden below. “It’s beautiful out here,” she says softly. Her eyes are still shining from earlier tears, making them sparkle against the starlight.

“Peaceful too,” I reply, stepping beside her. “A rare commodity these days.”

She turns to face me, her expression earnest. “You’ve done so much for me already, Valen. I don’t know how to repay you.”

“You don’t need to,” I reply, my voice firm. “Protecting you isn’t a debt; it’s something I want to do.”

Her lips part as if she’s about to say something, but then she hesitates..Instead, she reaches out and takes my hand in hers, squeezing it gently. The warmth of her touch sends a jolt through me—a reminder of what’s at stake.

“Even if it means facing your own demons?”

“Especially then,” I reply without hesitation.

Ariana smiles—a small, genuine smile that lights up her face. She leans into me, resting her head against my chest. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat against mine is both comforting and grounding.

For a moment, we stand there in silence, wrapped in each other’s presence. The world outside can wait; right now, all that matters is this quiet moment together.

And as I hold her close, I vow to myself that no matter what challenges lie ahead, I’ll face them head-on—for her sake and for ours.

“Thank you,” she whispers against my chest.

“No need for thanks,” I murmur back.

“Still...” She pulls back slightly to look up at me. “Thank you for everything.”

I lean down and press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Anything for you,” I whisper.

The sound of laughter from the gala drifts up to us, but it feels like a world away. Here on this balcony with Ariana in my arms, everything else fades into insignificance.

And in this quiet moment under the starlit sky, I find a peace I never thought possible—a peace worth fighting for with every fiber of my being.