[INTRO — DARK, RITUALISTIC] Warp transition complete. Real-space continuity established. Real-time feeds in scarlet hue. Sick-yellow primary, main sequence turning. Here at the end of things, an immortal returns to the beginning. Everything is cold now, not merely the season. No lamps in La Maison. No haunts of wine and reason. No spectacles or revelry. No music. No dancing. The revolution has burned down to stubborn embers. And she is gone, taken from the star to somewhere between death and life, behind crystal, beyond touch. One last ritual, then. One last drink. One final breaking of the bonds. Then rip the sky open and burn it all. It's time. [VERSE 1] Sparrow settles into high orbit. Old coordinates resolve beneath the inbound trace: ruined stone, radiation, cratered ground. The site is still hot, surface conditions marginal. One shuttle clears the cradle, one passenger going down alone. [CHORUS] Two whispers for the ruins, one for you and one for me. Pour the wine and raise the goblet to everything that used to be. No resurrection. No forgiveness. No pretending love survived. Only winter at Lasleinur, stubborn proof that I arrived. [VERSE 2] She crosses shattered stone, finds a broken outcrop in the crater and sets the ritual alone. First glass filled for absent lover, second lifted in her hand. “There is a ritual of my people: a kiss, some wine, and broken glass.” The rose laid carefully beside. Sparrow command link opened. “Confirm position.” “Target received.” “Six megapulse batteries. Armageddon yield. Visible spectrum.” “Confirm danger close on this position.” “Confirmed.” “I will be moving before impact.” A lie delivered perfectly. “Fire on these coordinates. Three hundred seconds. Mark.” [CHORUS] Two glasses in the ruins, one for you and one for me. Raise the wine beneath the starship. No resurrection. No forgiveness. Only light across Lasleinur, and one more thing I came to say. [VERSE 3] Three hundred seconds running downward. Jade watches. Does not move. Two forty, two ten, one eighty, still holding the stem, still exactly where she said she would not be. Above her, Sparrow's bridge is silent. Everyone aboard already knows. Weapons techs switch the solution. Six batteries shifting north, several miles. A bracket, not a centre. No one asks permission. Permission is not an anarchist word. [BUILD] Ninety seconds. “Jade, evac point is active.” She looks toward the shuttle. Too far. “Shuttle crew standing by inside the impact zone.” And now she understands. Not the coordinates. Them. The bastards moved the strike. If she stays, they stay. If she dies here, she takes them with her. [BREAK] “Oh, fuck you motherfuckers— Putain! Fils de putes!” And then she fucking runs. [VERSE 4 — FAST] Goblet dropped into the crater, wine across shattered rock. Jade running hard across the ruins, ninety seconds on the clock. Boots slipping over broken concrete, lungs burning, shuttle lights ahead. Six great guns are charging for the place she'd meant to stay instead. Sixty seconds, ramp already open. “Move! Fucking move!” Thirty seconds. She hits the ramp, half falls inside. The shuttle lifts before the hatch is sealed. Then Sparrow fires and burns the sky. [IMPACT] Six megapulse beams cross atmosphere. Not subtle. Not symbolic. Not ceremonial. Visible light becomes violence. The northern horizon turns white. Rock flashes into vapour. Ice becomes expanding cloud. Then the seismic pulse arrives. The shuttle bucks. A wall of rock and debris runs through the crater. The two goblets disappear. The rose disappears. The place where Jade had meant to die ceases to exist. [FINAL CHORUS] Two glasses in the ruins. “There is a custom of my people.” Only six bright lines from orbit— the custom atomised. And a crew that disobeyed. Fucking anarchists. No resurrection. No forgiveness. No noble final word. Only people who knew exactly what their captain meant to do. And refused. [OUTRO — QUIET, CONTROLLED] The shuttle climbs. Lasleinur falls away beneath them. Jade says nothing, then opens command authority. Executive access: relinquish. Fleet command codes: relinquish. Sparrow executive authority: relinquish. “Confirm.” “Confirmed.” Then the hangar channel. “Chief.” “Comrade?” “Refuel this shuttle, please.” “How soon?” “Immediately.” The planet turns below. Sparrow remains in orbit. Nobody aboard says: We saved you. Nobody needs to. Jade sees the fucking irony. And never looks back.
