The departure was not a decision, but an aftershock.
The air above the platform still vibrated, as if space itself hadn't forgotten how to breathe. Rhea packed up the radio module, sliding it into her bag while Eiko disconnected the last cables. The metal was warm—not from energy, but from something that could almost be called a "pulse."
Lina stood nearby, silent, her fingers still slightly open, as if they were holding onto the light from moments ago. It was no longer there, but it had left traces—fine lines under her skin, glimmering like residual warmth after a storm.
Alaric approached her. "How do you feel?"
"Like someone who briefly forgot she was a body," she murmured. "And is now remembering."
A hint of relief flickered across his face, too fleeting to seem genuine. "That's enough for me right now."
Rhea looked at them. "We need to keep moving before this thing powers up again. Frequencies have memory. They always return to their last form."
