AMONG THE DYING STARS

AMONG THE DYING STARS

The last Sunset on Earth

The sky above New York burned gold and crimson beneath a veil of smoke.

From the rooftop of her apartment building, Isabella Reyes watched the sun sink behind the fractured skyline while evacuation drones crossed overhead like swarms of metal insects. Their blinking lights reflected against shattered glass towers and flood barriers that stretched across the lower districts.

Far below, the city groaned.

Generators hummed.

Sirens wailed somewhere near the river.

Humanity was leaving Earth.

Not everyone of course. There was room only for a fraction of the population aboard the generation fleets. Scientists. Engineers. Framers. Doctors. Genetic archivists. Teachers. Thousands chosen through lotteries, merit systems, and political bargaining.

The lucky ones, according to the newspapers.

The condemned, according to everyone else.

Isabella wrapped her cardigan tighter against the cold spring wind. April should not have been this cold anymore. The seasons had become unstable years ago, swinging violently between extremes as Earth’s climate system collapsed faster than predicted.

Behind her, the rooftop door creaked open.

“You disappeared halfway through dinner.”

She turned at the sound of Liam’s voice.

Even after all these years, seeing him still caused something traitorous in her chest to flutter awake.

Liam Mercer stepped onto the rooftop carrying two steaming mugs of coffee. Wind tugged at his dark hair as he crossed toward her, careful not to spill the drinks.

“You made coffee?” Isabella asked.

“You once set water on fire.”

“That happened one time.”

“Twice.”

He handed her a mug anyway.

The warmth seeped gratefully into her hands.

For a moment neither of them spoke. They simply stood beside each other overlooking the dying city while the setting sun painted the clouds blood-orange.

Tomorrow, they would board the Eidolon.

Tomorrow, Earth would begin to become memory.

“You scared your mother tonight,” Liam said quietly.

Isabella stared down into her coffee. “I know.”

“She kept looking at you like she was trying to memorize your face.”

The words hurt more than she expected.

Her mother had barely touched dinner. Instead, she spent most of the evening asking practical questions no one truly had answers to.

Would there be schools aboard the ship?

Would there be enough food?”

Would Isabella ever wake from cryostasis early enough to send messages back to Earth?”

As if communication across light-years would somehow preserve the illusion that this was temporary.

As if goodbye could become less permanent through technology.

“She thinks I’m never coming back,” Isabella said softly.

Liam didn’t answer immediately.

Because they both knew the truth.

They were never coming back.

The Eidolon would travel for nearly two centuries before reaching Arcadia, the distant Earth like planet discovered orbiting Tau Ceti. The original passengers would spend most of the journey in rotational cryo sleep while future generations maintained the ship.

By the time humanity arrived, Isabella and Liam would either be old or dead.

Earth would certainly be dead.

“You could still stay,” Liam said carefully.

She looked at him sharply.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I’m saying you have a choice.”

“So do you.”

Liam gave a faint smile. “Not really.”

She understood what he meant.

Liam had lost everything already.

His mother had died during the Atlantic Fever outbreaks six years earlier. His father barely spoke to him anymore after learning he’d volunteered for the colony mission instead of remaining on Earth to help rebuild infrastructure zones.

There was nothing holding him here except ghosts.

Isabella envied him for that sometimes.

You know what scares me most?” She asked quietly.

“What?”

“That one day I won’t remember this city correctly.”

The wind swept between them.

She looked out toward Manhattan’s dim skyline where solar towers glimmered against gathering darkness.

“What if memory changes things?” she continued. “What if eventually I forget what rain smelled like here? Or subway music? Or summer heat coming off the side walk?”

Liam leaned his elbows against the rooftop railing.

“My grandfather used to say memory isn’t a recording,” he said. “It’s a painting.”

She glanced at him.

“He said every time we remember something we repaint it. A little differently every time.”

“That’s depressing.”

“Maybe.” He smiled faintly. “Or maybe it means the people we love never stop changing inside us.”

The city lights flickered below.

Entire districts periodically lost power.

Earth was unraveling thread by thread.

Isabella looked at Liam beside her and wondered-not for the first time -if she was making the worst decision of her life because of him.

Because she loved him.

Because every future she imagined without him felt strangely hollow.

And because he had absolutely no idea, she felt that way.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Liam said.

“What thing?”

“The overthinking thing.”

“I don’t overthink.”

“You once made a pros-and-cons list before buying shampoo.”

“That was responsible.”

“That was psychotic.”

She laughed despite herself.

Liam grinned victorious.

God, she was going to miss this.

Not just him.

This version of him.

Young. Alive. Standing beneath am Earth sky.

The thought hollowed her chest unexpectedly.

“What if Arcadia’s awful?” she asked.

“Oh, statistically it probably will be.”

“Liam.”

“I’m serious. We could arrive and discover giant acid oceans or alien bacteria that dissolve our organs.”

“You are unbelievably bad at comfort.”

“I have many strengths. Emotional support isn’t one of them.”

She shook her head, smiling weakly.

Then the rooftop door opened again.

“Found you.”

Isabella turned to see her younger Mateo climbing the stairs carrying a blanket around his shoulders.

At sixteen, he was already taller than her.

And furious she was leaving.

“You missed dessert,” he said flatly.

“You came all the upstairs to tell me that.”

“No.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Mom’s crying again.”

The words struck like ice water.

Liam quietly stepped back, giving them space.

Mateo looked away toward the skyline. “You should talk to her.”

“I will.”

“She thinks you’re choosing space over us.”

Isabella closed her eyes briefly.

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s how she feels.”

Silence heavily between them.

Finally, Mateo spoke again, quieter this time.

“Do you even want to go?”

The question pierced straight through her carefully constructed certainty.

Did she?

She wanted survival.

She wanted purpose.

She wanted to see humanity become something more than a species waiting to die on a collapsing planet.

But deeper than all of that-

She wanted Liam.

And maybe that terrified her most of all.

“I don’t know.” She admitted.

Mateo stared at her, surprised by her honesty.

Then, unexpectedly, he stepped forward and hugged her tightly.

“You better not die in space,” he muttered against her shoulder.

Emotion rose suddenly in her throat.

“I’ll do my best.”

“You always say that when you’re lying.”

She laughed shakily.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes were suspiciously bright.

“Mom saved your old astronomy books,” he said. “She packed them in your cargo allowance.”

Isabella blinked. “What?”

“She said if you’re leaving Earth, you should at least take the stars that made you want to leave.”

That nearly broke her.

Mateo headed back toward the stairwell, pausing only once.

“Oh,” he added casually, “Liam’s been staring at you like he’s in love with you since college.”

Liam nearly choked on his coffee.

“Mateo- “

“Goodnight!”

The door slammed shut behind him before either could respond.

Silence exploded across the rooftop.

Isabella stared at Liam.

Liam stared very hard at the city.

Neither moved.

Finally, Isabella spoke carefully.

“… is that true?”

Liam looked like he wanted the roof to collapse beneath him.

“Your brother,” he said weakly, “has terrible timing.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

His jaw tightened slightly.

The city wind moved softly around them.

Then Liam exhaled.

“Yes,” he admitted quietly.

The world seemed to tilt.

“I didn’t say anything because…” he laughed nervously. “Well. You were brilliant and intimidating and definitely out of my league.”

“Liam.”

“And also, because falling in love with your best friend is horrifying.”

Isabella’s heartbeat thundered painfully.

All these years.

All this time.

“You idiot,” she whispered.

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve been in love with you for seven years.”

Now it was Liam’s turned to stared.

The sunset faded around them as realization slowly crossed his face.

“You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding.”

“No. You look emotionally devasted.”

“I am emotionally devasted.”

A disbelieving laugh escaped him.

Then another.

Then suddenly they were both laughing beneath the dying light of Earth’s last beautiful evening, years of fear and silence unraveling all at once.

And somewhere between laughter and tears, Liam reached for her hand.

This time she let him hold it.

Above them, the stars emerged through the smoke- filled sky-

Tomorrow, they would leave Earth forever.

But tonight, for the first time, neither of them faced the future alone.

Departure Day

The spaceport stood where the Atlantic Ocean used to begin.

Massive seawalls rose like cliffs around the launch complex holding back dark water that crashed endlessly against reinforced barriers. Once decades ago, this had been part of costal New Jersey. Now only the upper structures remained above sea level, connected by elevated transit bridges and steel causeways.

The Eidolon towered above everything.

Even after years of seeing images in broadcasts and simulations, Isabella wasn’t prepared for its sheer size.

The generation ship resembled a sliver city suspended upright against the morning sky. Rings encircled its massive central spine designed to rotated slowly in space and create artificial gravity during the voyage. Thousands of windows gleamed along its outer hull. Docking arms extended from the station like skeletal fingers.

Humanity’s final ark.

And somehow, impossibly, it was real.

Crowds surged through the terminal beneath giant holographic screens displaying departure schedules in dozens of languages. Security drones hovered overhead while military officers guided passengers toward boarding sectors.

Children clung to parents.

Families cried openly.

News crews recorded everything.

History demanded witnesses.

Isabella stood near gate twelve gripping the strap of her duffel bag so tightly her fingers hurt.

Beside her, her mother adjusted Isabella’s jacket for the third time in five minutes.

“You’ll get cold,” Elena Reyes murmured distractedly.

“Mom, the ship had climate control.”

“I know that.”

Yet, she continued fussing anyway, smoothing invisible wrinkles from Isabella’s sleeves with trembling hands.

Mateo leaned against a luggage crate nearby pretending not to look emotional. He failed miserably.

“You still have time to panic and run,” he offered.

“Tempting.”

“You’d make it at least thirty feet before security tackled you.”

“Forty,” Isabella corrected.

“Confidence. I respect that.”

Their mother suddenly pulled Isabella into a fierce embrace.

The force of it startled her.

“You call whenever they allow transmissions,” Elena whispered softly. “I don’t care what hour it is.”

“I will.”

“You eat properly.”

“Mom- “

“And if there’s a doctor aboard that ship who’s handsome and emotionally stable, you marry him immediately.”

Mateo snorted.

Isabella laughed weakly against her mother’s shoulder though tears burned her eyes.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Elena pulled back just enough to cup Isabella’s face.

“You come from stubborn women,” she said softly. “Survive long enough to prove it.”

Emotion clogged Isabella’s throat too tightly for words.

So, she nodded instead.

Nearby, another family collapsed into tears as boarding announcements echoed across the terminal.

FINAL PASSENGER EMBARKATION FOR COLONY VESSEL EIDOLON WILL COMMENCE IN THIRTY MINUTES.

The crowd shifted uneasily.

This was it.

No more delays.

No more pretending departure existed somewhere in the future instead of now.

Mateo cleared his throat awkwardly. “I got you something.”

He shoved a small object into her hands before she could react.

It was an old photograph.

Real paper.

Rare enough now to feel almost sacred.

The image showed the three of them years earlier at coney island before the flooding destroyed most of Brooklyn’s coastline. Isabella couldn’t have been older than twelve. Mateo was missing his front teeth. Their mother stood between them laughing while ocean wind whipped through her hair.

The sky behind them was impossibly blue.

Earth before collapse.

Before smoke.

Before survival became humanity’s only religion.

Mateo shrugged uncomfortably when she looked up at him.

“So, you don’t forget us.”

The words nearly shattered her composure completely.

“I could never forget you.”

“You better not.” His voice cracked slightly. “Otherwise, I’m hijacking a spaceship.”

She hugged him harder.

This time he hugged back just as fiercely.

When she finally stepped away, Liam appeared through the crowd carrying his own travel pack over one shoulder.

His father walked beside him.

The tension between them was visible even from a distance.

Thomas Mercer looked older than Isabella remembered. Deep lines carved across his weathered face, and gray threaded heavily through his dark hair. He wore the uniform of an infrastructure engineer, stained faintly with grease and seawater.

A man who had spent decades trying to hold Earth together while it crumbled anyway.

Liam stopped a few feet from him.

Neither spoke at first.

Then Thomas handed over a small metal case.

Liam frowned. “What’s this?”

“Your mother’s watch.”

Liam froze.

Even from across the terminal, Isabella recognized the shift in his expression.

Careful. Fragile.

“She’d want you to have it,” Thomas said quietly.

Liam opened the case slowly.

Inside rested an antique wristwatch with a cracked leather band.

His mother’s.

The one she wore every day before the fever took her.

“You kept this,” Liam asked.

Thomas looked away, “couldn’t throw it out.”

For several seconds neither man moved.

Years of grief stood silently between them.

Then Thomas spoke again, voice rough.

“You’re still making a stupid decision.”

Liam gave a faint laugh. “Good to know some things never changed.

“But…” His father hesitated. “You were always meant to build things bigger than this world.”

Liam stared at him.

Shock flickered briefly across his face.

Because for all Isabella had known him, Liam’s father had never approved of his dreams.

Not once.

Thomas extended his hand stiffly.

After a heartbeat, Liam ignored it completely and pulled him into a hug instead.

The older man looked startled-but hugged him back.

And suddenly Isabella couldn’t breathe around the ache swelling in her chest.

All around them, humanity was saying goodbye.

Some reunions healed old wounds.

Others reopened them.

Boarding alarms sounded overhead.

NOW EMBARKING: PRIMARY COLONIST GROUPS A THROUGH F.

The terminal erupted into motion.

Passengers gathered luggage. Children cried harder. Security gates opened with mechanical hisses.

Liam approached Isabella as her family stepped back.

“You, okay?” he asked softly.

“No.”

“Yeah. Same.”

His hand brushed hers briefly.

Small.

Intentional.

Everything between them felt different now.

Lighter somehow.

And infinitely more terrifying.

Together, they moved toward the boarding line while the enormous silhouette of the Eidolon loomed overhead through the station glass.

Isabella forced herself not to look back too often.

Every glance hurt.

Yet, she kept taking them anyway.

Her mother standing rigid beside Mateo.

The crowd terminal.

Earth’s gray sky.

Home.

At the boarding checkpoint, officers scanned retinal IDs and genetic records before allowing passengers through sterilization tunnels. Bright white lights swept across Isabella’s skin while automated systems verified her identity.

WELCOME ABOARD COLONIST REYES, ISABELLA.

DESIGNATION: ARGICULTURAL BIOSYSTEMS SPECIALIST.

Beside her, Liam received his own clearance.

WELCOME ABOARD COLONIST MERCER, LIAM.

DESIGNATION: STRUTURAL SYSTEMS ENGINEER.

The doors ahead slid open.

And there it was.

The interior of the Eidolon.

Soft white corridors curved gently upward beneath vaulted ceilings lined with artificial daylight panels. Digital gardens climbed the walls in vertical strips of green. Air carried the faint sterile scent of new machinery mixed with recycled oxygen.

It didn’t feel like a spacecraft.

It felt like the future pretending to be calm.

Passengers moved slowly through the corridor in stunned silence.

Some whisper prayers.

Others cried openly.

A little girl nearby asked her mother if stars made noise.

Isabella almost answered before realizing she didn’t know.

Liam leaned closer beside her.

“So,” he murmured, “want to hear something deeply concerning.”

“Always.”

“I think we actually didn’t it.

She looked at him.

At the disbelief in his expression.

And suddenly it became real in a way it hadn’t before.

They had boarded.

Earth existed behind them now.

The life they once knew already began to drift away.

A vibration rolled through the ship beneath them.

Low.

Powerful.

The engines awakening.

Passengers froze instinctively.

Then the overhead voice spoke.

ALL PASSENGERS PLEASE PROCEED TO OBSERVATION DECKS OR ASSIGNED STABILIZATION AREAS. LAUNCH SEQUENCE INITIATING.

The corridor erupted into hurried movement.

Liam reached for Isabella’s hand without hesitation this time.

She held on tightly.

Together they followed the crowd upward toward the observation deck while the Eidolon prepared to leave humanity’s cradle forever.

And deep beneath their fear, beneath grief and uncertainty and impossible distance-

Hope flickered alive.