The next two days passed without incident, which didn't mean they were easy.
The ship followed its route with mechanical patience, stopping only to take on passengers and supplies, never long enough for anyone to get curious. Reva rotated watch with Viola while Requiem tried to rest in short bursts that never added up to real sleep.
Lyra woke often, disoriented, drifting between exhaustion and anxiety, while Iria stayed close, grounding her with a quiet presence more than words ever could.
When the ship finally docked, it wasn't at a city that made the news or a port that bothered with welcome banners. The terminal sat low and wide, concrete layered over older steel, surrounded by service roads that led nowhere important. Cargo moved through faster than people, and nobody cared enough to remember faces once they passed the gate.
They left with the crowd.
