"Julian. Julian."
A firm hand shook his shoulder.
Julian blinked awake, the soft hum of engines folding back into his ears.
Crest's calm voice cut through the haze. "We've arrived. Be ready."
He rubbed his eyes, stifled a yawn, and sat up straighter. "Yeah… yeah, I'm up."
The cabin lights had shifted—dim golds now replaced by soft daylight spilling through the windows. Passengers stirred, stretching, gathering their things.
Julian unclipped his belt, grabbed his jacket, and stood. His body felt heavy but steady—rested.
"Go freshen up," Crest said simply.
He nodded and made his way down the narrow aisle to the lavatory. The air carried a faint mix of metal, sanitizer, and coffee—clean, sharp, familiar.
Inside, he splashed cool water over his face, feeling it chase away the remnants of sleep. The reflection in the mirror stared back at him—eyes steady, calm, a faint trace of excitement hidden beneath composure.
As he reached for a towel, a stray thought surfaced.
