“I’m watching her,” I reply.
She turns without waiting, moving toward the exit with measured steps. There is no rush in her movement, no hesitation, and no glance back to check whether we follow.
I follow.
Vihl falls in beside me, quieter now than he has been since we arrived.
“She’s not normal,” he mutters.
“No,” I say.
Behind us, Lorens remains silent, and that silence says more than anything else he could have added.
The corridor feels different on the way out, the structure still intact but the tension no longer holding it together the same way. The staff keep their distance, their movements smaller, their attention carefully lowered.
She walks ahead of us, steady and aligned, not trying to disappear and not trying to perform.
“Why’d you take her?” Vihl asks under his breath.
“I didn’t take her,” I say.
He glances at me. “That’s not how it looked.”
I watch her as she moves, every step deliberate.
“No,” I say quietly. “It isn’t.”
We reach the exit without resistance, and the night air outside feels sharper, cooler as the scent of the estate fades behind us. The ship waits ahead, dark and still, its surface absorbing the light instead of reflecting it.
She slows slightly at the base of the ramp, not stopping, just adjusting as she takes in what stands in front of her. The scale ofit, the presence of it, the reality of where she is going all register in that small shift.
Then she continues.
Up the ramp.
Without being told.
Vihl exhales slowly beside me. “You see that?”
“I do.”
“That’s not fear,” he says.
“No,” I agree.
It isn’t.
I follow her onto the ship, the familiar hum settling into place as the systems respond to my presence. The air shifts, warmer, sharper, real in a way the estate never was.
She steps onto the deck and pauses just long enough to reorient herself before continuing forward.
I watch her longer than I should.
Then I turn away.
“Lock it down,” I say. “We’re done here.”
The ramp begins to close, sealing the estate out behind us.
