The third dawn came like a challenge. The Martian sky glowed faintly gold, though the light felt sharp and cold against the red expanse. The ship stood taller than before, patched and scarred, its frame humming with a pulse that almost matched the beat of their hearts.
Jonas ran a final check along the stabilizers. He dragged his hand across the reinforced plating and nodded once. "She'll fly," he said. His tone was calm, but beneath it was a strain none could miss.
Inside, the crew strapped themselves into their seats. The cabin smelled faintly of metal and dust, tinged with the acrid bite of repairs not yet settled. Liora adjusted the console, fingers dancing over controls that sputtered before finally holding steady.
"All systems green," she said. Then hesitated. "Green enough."
Mara smirked without humor. "Good enough to get us out of hell."
Eris sat quietly, his gaze fixed on the viewport. Beyond it, Mars stretched endless, a red wasteland hiding secrets they were leaving behind but not escaping. Deep within, he still felt the faint thrum—the pulse of the Heart—echoing like a drumbeat in his bones. He knew the planet was not finished with them. Not truly.
Jonas settled into the captain's chair and tightened the straps. "Hold your breath," he muttered. "Here we go."
The engines roared. At first a cough, then a growl, then a scream that shook the cabin. Dust erupted around the ship, a crimson storm that swallowed the horizon. The hull shuddered violently as the stabilizers strained against the ground. For a terrifying heartbeat, it felt like the planet itself was pulling them back, claws buried in the vessel's frame.
"Lift! Come on, lift!" Mara barked.
The ship lurched. Groaned. Rose an inch. Then another.
Outside, the ground split—a jagged crack racing away from the launch site. Dust geysered upward, the land itself rebelling. The quake surged beneath them, rattling every bolt, threatening to snap their fragile repairs.
"Engines at maximum!" Liora shouted.
Jonas gritted his teeth, forcing the throttle forward. The ship trembled like it would tear apart—then, with a wrenching roar, it broke free.
The ground fell away. The red desert shrank beneath them, the crack in the land gaping like a wound. The storm chased them upward, clouds of dust stretching like grasping hands, but they climbed faster, higher, leaving the fury below.
The cabin rattled until the stars cut through the haze. The roar softened. Gravity's grip loosened.
Silence returned.
Mars hung below them, vast and still, as though it had never moved at all.
The crew sat frozen for a moment, the echoes of the quake still in their ears. Then Mara let out a laugh—short, sharp, trembling.
"We're alive," she said, her voice half disbelief.
"For now," Jonas answered, though a faint smile tugged at his lips.
Liora leaned back in her seat, exhaling slowly. "Earth," she whispered. "We're going home."
Eris did not speak. His eyes stayed fixed on Mars until it was only a red star among others. Deep inside, the pulse still lingered, steady, patient. The Heart of Mars was not finished.
Not yet.