The Night of Departure

The edge of summer pressed close, impossibly tense with anticipation. Sunlight had burned itself away, leaving Everwood under a patchwork sky, cool and endless. In the woods beyond Granger’s field, three figures crouched by the roots of an ancient oak; the night was theirs but for a little while.

Elara hunched over the palm-sized alien device, its veins of blue and silver pulsing softly between her hands. Yiri, more solid now, worked with sure, practiced gestures—her shimmering fingers twisting the rod, band, and metallic puck into place within an oval shell sleek as river stone. Riley knelt nearby, flashlight trained low, awkwardly silent. Sweat beaded on her brow despite the chill; adrenaline had baked away any sleepiness hours ago.

For days, they’d scavenged, hidden, and run in sweat and fear, keeping the agents two steps behind. By dusk, the last part—an odd glass filament—had been found tucked in the hollow of a lightning-struck cedar. Now, Yiri’s craft was nearly whole.

Elara’s insides wobbled. “It’s really happening.”

Yiri nodded, electric joy warring with exhaustion. Emotions flickered through her gaze—fear, hope, gratitude—bright enough for Elara to feel, as real as a heartbeat.

Riley looked up from her phone. “Fenwick’s team is combing the southern woods. If we move quick, we’ve got maybe twenty minutes before they double back.”

The tension between them felt brittle, but under it, something gentler—an unspoken agreement that tonight everything would change. Elara tried to memorize how this felt; the close hush of summer leaves, the buzz of crickets, the entire universe holding its breath.

Yiri gestured for the girls to lean close. She pressed her palm first to Riley’s, then to Elara’s, sharing a rush of images—her spiraling galaxy, a ship slipping starward, rushing joy and sorrow tangled together. Then she touched the device to her chest, soft blue light rippling down her arms, readying the small vessel half-buried under moss and leaves.

Riley squeezed Elara’s arm. “We should make sure the way’s clear.”

Elara nodded, pulling herself to her feet. “I’ll handle the east trail. Riley, you double-check the fence.”

They parted, vanishing for a moment into the dense dark. Elara ducked beneath tangled branches, scanning for flashlights, the call-back-and-forth of agent radios. Every shadow seemed to breathe. She heard a distant bark—a clipped order—and flattened herself behind a rotting log, waiting for the crunch of boots to fade.

Her heart battered her ribs. She was terrified—but she was not alone. Courage was something she’d had to learn, borrowed from Riley’s steadiness and Yiri’s brave, wondering trust. Now she clutched it close.

At the clearing’s edge, a faint light filtered between trunks—Fenwick’s men. Elara froze. There was no time: if they found the site, everything would be lost. She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out her old walkie-talkie—a battered remnant from childhood spy games. She clicked it on and, with trembling hands, tuned it to the channel the agents’ radios had bled into two nights before.

She pressed the transmit button, pitched her voice low, and hissed, “Movement—north by Miller’s barn. Two figures. Request backup. Quick—over.”

A new flurry of voices erupted across the agents’ radios. Flashlights flicked and bobbed together, striding toward the decoy location. Elara sucked in a breath, slipped away from the glow, her heart buoyed by how simple it was—how close she’d come to panic, then found her wits when it was needed most.

She darted back to the oak tree. “They’re moving,” she whispered. “This is our best shot.”

Riley reappeared, cheeks flushed, backpack thumping her hip. “Coast’s clear.”

Yiri reached for the assembled device, now pulsing brighter than ever. She knelt, tapped a sequence of indents—it chimed and flexed, expanding into a globe of humming violet. From beneath the leaves, she pulled forth the rest of her vessel: sleek, seamless as bone, small enough to hide beneath the mulch but large enough for a single passenger. A final key press, and the hull slid open with a hiss, revealing a glowing seat and console, runes flickering like starlight.

Elara’s throat felt tight. “You—you’ll be safe?”

Yiri tried to smile. She brushed her fingers across Elara’s temple—a feathery caress. Home, hope, friendship. The meanings poured into Elara’s mind like warm rain. She pressed her hand over Yiri’s, fighting back tears. “We’ll never forget you.”

Riley—stoic till now—blurted, “Promise us you’ll remember us, too.”

Yiri nodded and, in halting English, whispered, “Always. Friends.”

From the woods, a single flashlight beam pierced the gloom—one of Fenwick’s men, splitting off from the others.

Instinct roared in Elara: We have to stall them. One last time.

She dashed into the open, waving her arms. “Hey!” she shouted, voice cracking—a burst of panic and bravery all at once. The agent whirled, beam snapping to her face.

“There! By the fence!” she yelled again, dashing parallel to the clearing, drawing the agent away. Footsteps thundered after her—Riley’s voice echoed, “Wrong way!” She watched as Fenwick’s man chased her down the muddy ravine.

For a single breathless minute, Elara crashed through the underbrush, adrenaline burning away all fear. She looped wide and, when certain she wasn’t being followed, doubled back. Her lungs ached; her legs shook. But the path to the clearing stayed empty.

By the time she returned, Yiri and Riley waited by the ship. The vessel shimmered, casting an iridescent glow over their faces. Riley’s cheeks were wet. Yiri offered Elara both hands—an invitation, a thank-you, a promise.

“I’m glad it was us,” Elara whispered. “I’m glad you found us.”

Yiri pressed her hands to her heart, then to theirs. With a final glance full of worlds unspoken, she stepped into her craft. The hull slid closed, concealing her from view. The blue pulse swelled, silent as breath; a shimmer of light refracted through the trees.

Above, the clouds parted—a river of starlight winding across the sky. The vessel levitated, wavering just above the moss, then shot upward with a burst of pale green. It sailed past the branches, into the navy sky, and then—like a wish, like a secret—vanished among the constellations.

For a long time, Elara and Riley stood silent, their faces lifted toward the place where their friend had gone. Grief and awe braided together, vast and bittersweet. The woods around Everwood were just woods again—but nothing would be the same.

Riley wiped her nose, trying to laugh through her tears. “You think anyone’ll ever believe us?”

Elara smiled, hope rising through the ache. “Doesn’t matter. We know. We changed something—helped someone.”

In the distance, sirens wailed, the search still on. But here, in the cool hush, friendship and wonder filled the empty spaces that used to ache. They turned for home, arms looped together, hearts forever opened to the impossible.

Above them, the stars burned brighter than ever, urging them on into whatever adventures the future might hold.