The door creaked open with a long, hollow groan, the rusted hinges protesting after years of disuse, echoing through the dim interior like a final, dying breath.
Liss blinked, straightening up from her leaned position against the outer wall, her fingers halting their nervous rhythm against her thigh.
She'd been pacing earlier, anxiety gnawing at her, but when she saw Tila step out, she froze, her breath catching in her throat.
It wasn't just that Tila was upright and breathing, emerging from the box that had once been her prison without collapsing or raging.
It was the way she moved—fluid, unburdened.
No flinch at the sudden light.
No tension coiling in her shoulders like a spring ready to snap.
Her steps were even, deliberate, her black eyes forward and unclouded, her expression unreadable—but centered, grounded in a way Liss had never seen before.
Kael followed her out, quieter, his hazel eyes steady as he closed the door behind them with a soft click.
