The Pathfinder's bridge thrummed with quiet energy, the ship humming beneath their feet as pre-flight checks reached their final stages. The air carried a charge, not just from the ship's systems but from the anticipation of what lay ahead. For the first time since their arrival in this galaxy, they were leaving Thedas.

Andersson stood in his usual spot between Reece and Hale's stations, his officer's uniform immaculate, the tailored navy-blue fabric fitting comfortably over his muscular frame. The dark, high-collared jacket was reinforced with polished silver detailing—streamlined bands tracing the length of his arms and crossing over his chest with military precision. The material, sleek yet durable, carried a subtle textured pattern beneath the muted sheen of the silver trim, emphasizing both function and formality. A slim silver belt cinched neatly at his waist, and the gleaming Alliance insignia pinned to his chest caught the ambient light from the surrounding displays.

He had taken the time to neaten up—his stubble trimmed to a sharp, even shadow along his jawline, his usually tousled hair now expertly styled into something that resembled actual regulation. Across from him, Reece had done the same—his own officer's uniform fitted just as well, his dark hair slicked back with just enough control to suggest effort while still looking effortlessly handsome. He looked every bit the decorated officer he now represented—whether he liked it or not.

Hale, on the other hand, looked downright irritated with the entire affair. Her uniform, though tailored perfectly to her athletic frame, was clearly a source of discomfort. The rigid collar sat stiff against her neck, and she tugged at her cuffs with a scowl, as if loosening them might somehow make the whole ordeal more bearable. Unlike Andersson and Reece, who had at least begrudgingly accepted the necessity of looking their best, Hale looked about two seconds away from ripping off the silver-lined epaulets and rolling up her sleeves.

"You two clean up too well," Hale muttered, tugging at her collar again. "I liked it better when you looked a little rough—felt more honest."

Reece smirked, smoothing a hand over his freshly groomed beard. "Don't worry, Hale. Give it an hour, and I'll be back to my usual rakish charm."

Andersson rolled his eyes but allowed himself a faint smirk. "We're representing Thedas now. We might as well look like we belong."

Hale sighed, exhaling sharply. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't expect me to enjoy it."

Andersson glanced over the trio—two scrappy soldiers and a pilot, now turned diplomats, standing in the Pathfinder's command center, dressed for a mission that would change everything.

At the front of the bridge, Reece sat in the pilot's seat, fingers drumming idly against the console as he worked through the final pre-flight diagnostics. He looked at ease, but Andersson knew him well enough by now to recognize the excitement beneath the casual façade. The same buzz ran through all of them. They were finally heading into open space again.

Andersson glanced at the readouts before shifting his gaze toward Reece. "How are we looking?"

Reece didn't answer immediately, fingers sweeping across the console with a practiced ease that still carried a faint edge of unfamiliarity. The new holographic interfaces were slick, efficient—but not quite second nature yet.

"Still getting used to these new controls," Reece admitted, his tone light. "Feels like they're reading my mind half the time—and arguing with me the other half."

He spun his chair with an easy motion, the turn smooth, unhurried. His eyes flicked over Andersson, taking in the pristine uniform before a slow, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Reece spun his chair lazily in a partial turn, casting a grin toward Andersson. "Well, the ship's prepped, systems are green, and everything's running smooth," he said. Then he leaned back slightly, eyes locking onto Andersson with something far too amused to be professional. "But you, Captain? You're looking ridiculously good."

Andersson exhaled, shaking his head with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Let's try and focus on the mission ahead, Commander."

Reece grinned, turning lazily back to the controls. "Yeah, yeah, Pathfinder's ready to go," he added, but not before throwing one last look over his shoulder. "Just thought it needed saying."

Hale muttered something under her breath—probably something about unbelievable—but the ghost of a smirk on her face gave her away.

Andersson rolled his shoulders, exhaling as he focused back on the displays. "Alright. Let's get this done."

EDI's holographic form flickered into focus in front of the side console, her synthetic voice steady and composed. "All systems are functioning within optimal parameters, Captain. The upgrades have been fully integrated. Navigation is calibrated for the Mass Relay jump, and all internal functions are operating at peak efficiency."

"Let's hope it stays that way," Hale muttered, giving the weapons console one last look, even though they wouldn't be needing it for this mission. Still, habit was habit.

"If these simulations are anything to go on, she handles like a dream," Reece said, his hands gliding over the controls. "The engines have more than enough power, and response time's sharp."

"I stand by, ready to make real-time adjustments should the Commander's overzealous handling of the thruster control take place," EDI said dryly.

Without waiting for a response, her holographic form flickered once and faded from view, leaving only the soft hum of the bridge systems in her wake.

"Hey," Reece protested, flashing a grin. "She handles like a dream when I'm in control."

"As far as I remember," Hale said, leaning back with a smirk, "the last time you flew this thing, she was torn almost in two."

"That was the spatial rift! Not me!" Reece shot back, half-laughing.

"Just saying," Hale murmured, eyes gleaming with amusement.

Andersson shook his head, already feeling that this was going to be a long day.

"Alright," he said. "Let's get moving. Commander, begin startup sequence."

The Pathfinder rumbled to life, its systems cycling through final pre-flight checks as its reinforced hull gleamed beneath the golden daylight streaming through the open hangar doors. It was mid-afternoon in Vael'Theron, and the bright skies of Thedas stretched beyond the docking platform, the towering spires of the capital visible in the distance. Sunlight danced off the polished metal of the ship's newly upgraded plating, reflecting a vessel that was no longer human-made, yet not fully Thedan either.

Perfectly unique—just like Andersson and his crew.

He turned his attention to the front of the bridge. "Commander Reece," he said, voice steady. "Take us up."

Reece's fingers hovered over the new holographic flight interface, the soft orange glow casting faint highlights across his hands. The controls had changed—not physical levers and buttons anymore, but responsive energy projections, reacting to the slightest motion. It was intuitive, fluid, but different.

He flexed his fingers experimentally, then smirked as the ship's engines thrummed in response. "With pleasure, Captain."

With a smooth motion, he guided his hands through the holographic interface, the ship reacting instantly. "Gotta admit," he mused, eyes flicking over the new systems, "it's smooth. Not quite the same as having something solid under your fingers, but I can see why the Elarin like this tech."

"All style, no substance if you ask me," Hale muttered, adjusting the fit of her cuffs. "Just like the Elarin."

"Now, now," Andersson said, a dry note in his voice. "Let's not have any caste profiling on this ship."

Hale opened her mouth to protest, then thought better of it, settling back into her seat with a grumble.

With a smooth motion, Reece guided his hands through the holographic interface, the ship reacting instantly. "Gotta admit," he mused, eyes flicking over the new systems, "it's smooth. Not quite the same as having something solid under your fingers, but I can see why the Elarin like this tech."

"All style, no substance if you ask me," Hale muttered, adjusting the fit of her cuffs. "Just like the Elarin."

"Now, now," Andersson said, a dry note in his voice. "Let's not have any caste profiling on this ship."

Hale opened her mouth to protest, then thought better of it, settling back into her seat with a grumble.

Reece shifted his grip slightly—and over-manipulated one of the holographic levers. The Pathfinder gave a sharp jolt, the inertial dampeners lagging by a fraction of a second as the ship lifted free of the docking clamps and began to ascend.

Andersson caught himself on the edge of the console, smirking as he steadied his footing. "Adjusting well, then?"

"Just testing its responsiveness," Reece said easily. Below them, the spaceport shrank, the towering spires of Vael'Theron growing smaller against the brilliant afternoon sky. He flexed his fingers again, calibrating the controls with a finer touch. "I kinda miss the feeling of old-fashioned tactile controls. But..." He dragged one hand through the projection, and the ship responded instantly, pivoting with perfect fluidity. "This is like flying with thought alone."

As the Pathfinder climbed higher, the landing struts folded themselves seamlessly back into the ship's reinforced hull. Thrusters flared bright beneath them, pushing the vessel smoothly skyward toward the upper atmosphere.

Hale arched an eyebrow. "Let's just hope you don't think too hard about crashing it."

Andersson smirked. "I'm pretty sure EDI is doing most of the work anyway."

Reece placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. "Wow. Don't undermine my piloting skills in front of my ship." He patted the console affectionately. "She and I have a bond."

Hale snorted. "Need I remind you about the ship almost breaking in half thing?"

Reece tilted his head back toward Hale's station, smirking without missing a beat. "Need I remind you that it wasn't my fault?"

Hale raised an eyebrow. "Do we know that for sure?"

EDI's voice rang out crisply over the comms. "Your 'bond' consists of you pressing controls while I ensure the ship does not explode."

Reece scoffed. "Details. Hey, at least I add a touch of style."

Andersson chuckled, shaking his head. "That's debatable."

"Great," Reece said, grinning. "Now my one true love is having a pop."

"Oh jeez, you two," Hale muttered. "Can we have a no-flirting-on-the-bridge policy?"

"We can," Reece said easily, flashing a lopsided grin. "But you know I'm a rule breaker."

Through the forward viewscreen, the landscape of Thedas stretched out beneath them—expansive green forests merging into sprawling cities, rivers carving their way through valleys. The light from the twin suns bathed the world in gold, making it look almost serene, almost untouched. But it was shrinking fast.

Clouds streaked past as they climbed higher, the sky shifting from pale blue to deep azure, then to the endless black of space. The turbulence faded, the ship gliding effortlessly beyond the atmosphere.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then Hale let out a slow breath, adjusting her sleeves. "Well, we're committed now."

Andersson exhaled as well, watching Thedas recede behind them on the rear display. The planet was already nothing more than a brilliant sphere, its golden light contrasting against the cold vastness ahead.

"Set course for the Mass Relay," Andersson ordered.

"Aye, Captain," Reece said, fingers dancing across the controls. The navigational holo expanded in front of him, locking onto the relay's coordinates. A pulsating blue marker highlighted their destination—the ancient construct waiting at the far edge of the system.

The Pathfinder banked smoothly, adjusting its trajectory toward the Mass Relay. Thedas still dominated the view ahead, its golden-hued continents sprawling beneath them.

Hale tapped a few commands into her console, watching the trajectory calculations update in real time. "The relay's at the edge of the system—should take about an hour to reach it with thrusters at full burn."

Reece exhaled, drumming his fingers against the armrest. "Shame we can't test the new FTL drive in-system."

Hale shot him a sideways glance. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to fly your new toy around in open space at FTL at some point, Kyle."

Andersson smirked. "An hour to overthink the journey ahead, then."

"We are underway," Reece said, adjusting the last settings. "Autopilot engaged."

He let out a long, dramatic sigh and slumped back in his chair, rubbing a hand down his face. "Fantastic. An entire hour to question all my life choices before we potentially make first contact with an intergalactic bureaucracy." He dropped his arm limply over the side of the chair, staring at the ceiling like a man facing execution. "This is gonna be the worst hour of my life."

Hale didn't even look up from her console. "God forbid you should be dramatic."

Ignoring them both, Andersson turned back to his station. "EDI, send a message to Skyhold. Let them know we're underway."

EDI's voice came crisply over the comms. "Message away, Captain. My systems will remain linked to Skyhold throughout this mission. I can provide real-time updates as necessary."

Reece raised an eyebrow. "That's a nice way of saying they're watching us."

The Pathfinder surged forward, thrusters burning bright as it broke through the gravitational pull of Thedas.

As they cleared the planet's orbit, a massive shape hung silently against the stars—a vessel, dark and jagged, its surface cracked with faint red seams like cooling lava.

Khazreth's Spine. Karass's ship, silent. Watching.

The blackness of space stretched out before them, vast and endless.

As Thedas shrank behind them, Andersson felt something unexpected.

He had left Earth hundreds of times and never once felt like he was leaving anything behind.

But now, watching Thedas fade into the distance, he felt it—a pull, a heaviness in his chest.

Like he was leaving home.

And for the first time in his life, he wasn't sure where that was anymore.