The silence was not empty.
It was heavy, almost tangible, like a veil between the world and her. Daniella opened her eyes, unsure how long she had been lying there. The ceiling of the sanctuary — that pale, almost organic vault of light — pulsed slowly, like a tired heart, resonating with the void that had settled inside her.
Before, she could feel every beat. Every breath of the others, every micro-wave of their thoughts. The invisible thread that connected her to Kael vibrated like a taut string, guiding her, alerting her, reassuring her. Now… nothing.
She inhaled deeply. Her chest rose. Fell. Functional. Alive. Whole — at least on the surface. But the absence of this link left a void that nothing seemed able to fill.
"She's awake."
The voice came from her left. Calm. Low. Concerned, but controlled. Terra.
Daniella turned her head slightly. Terra was sitting on the floor, back against a matte crystal wall, arms around her knees. She had removed her tactile gloves — a rare exception. Her hands trembled just enough for Daniella to notice.
"Since when?" Daniella asked.
"Three minutes."
A pause.
"I waited before speaking."
A choice. Not a procedure.
Daniella nodded slowly. Every movement reminded her of what she had lost. Not the pain — she knew how to handle pain — but the absence. As if a crucial piece had been removed without leaving a visible trace. She left behind a world of invisible connections, of illusory safety. Now, only raw reality remained.
"The others?" she asked, her voice firmer than she expected.
"Alive. Tired. Angry."
Terra gave a brief, joyless smile.
"So… normal."
A faint, almost laughing sound escaped Daniella before she could stop it. The sound surprised her as much as Terra.
"I thought you were still asleep," Terra said.
"So did I," Daniella replied.
A silence settled, different from before. Less overwhelming. More human. The sanctuary's light seemed to soften, as if respecting this fragile moment. Daniella could feel the lingering tension in every corner, but it no longer dominated the space.
"The sanctuary is stable?" she asked, her hand brushing the floor.
"Stable, yes. Strong, no."
Terra lowered her eyes.
"It absorbed more than it should have. Like you."
Daniella didn't answer immediately. She placed a hand on the floor. The surface vibrated faintly, imperceptible but real. Before, she would have understood instantly what it meant. Now, she had to interpret it. It was new. And strangely… liberating.
"Kael?" she finally asked, almost whispering.
Terra inhaled slowly.
"In voluntary quarantine."
"Voluntary?"
"He said that as long as the link was unstable, he didn't want to risk interference."
A moment.
"He also said it was easier this way."
Daniella clenched her teeth. No anger. No tears. Just that dull pressure behind her eyes. A mix of worry and frustration, tempered by clarity.
"Lies," she murmured.
"Yes," Terra confirmed softly.
Footsteps echoed in the adjacent gallery. Aeris appeared, his coat still marked with energy burns. He walked more slowly than usual, as if calculating every movement, measuring every breath.
"You're conscious," he said. "Good."
Not relieved. Not happy. Just honest.
"Elias Korr has pulled back his units," he continued. Not a retreat. A repositioning.
"He got what he wanted," Daniella said.
Aeris studied her carefully.
"Time."
"And data," added Nyx from the shadows, where she always seemed to appear unannounced.
"Mostly on what happens when you cut a link without destroying the source."
Daniella looked up at her.
"You're scared."
Nyx shrugged.
"Always. But this time, it's not for me."
Pyra entered as well, a fresh cut on her forearm. She didn't hide it.
"The good news," she said, "is that you're no longer a single point of failure."
"The bad?" Daniella asked.
"We'll have to learn to operate without feeling you every second."
A silence followed. Then Pyra added, more softly:
"And that… terrifies me a little."
Daniella observed each of them. Their injuries. Their tensions. Their unspoken fears. Before, she would have carried it all for them. Taken the weight. Centralized the burden. This time, she didn't. She let the responsibility circulate, light but present, and felt a strange mix of fear and relief.
"So we learn," she said simply.
They looked at her. Not as a weapon. Not as a symbol. As a person. Real.
"Elias Korr thinks isolating me weakens the system," she continued.
She stood, wobbly but upright.
"He's wrong. He just made it… more unpredictable."
Aeris gave a slight smile.
"Do you have a plan?"
"Not yet."
A pause.
"Just one certainty."
"Which?" Terra asked.
Daniella closed her eyes for a moment. In the silence, she didn't search for the link. She didn't force anything.
"The power is not in what I control."
She opened her eyes.
"It's in what I choose not to carry alone."
The sanctuary pulsed gently. Not in response. In agreement.
And somewhere, far away, Elias Korr observed data that no longer aligned. For the first time, the hunt had shifted shape.
But in that same instant, Daniella felt something else. A subtle shiver ran down her spine, as if the sanctuary itself whispered a warning: there were still hidden pieces. Invisible movements. Enemies she hadn't yet met. And despite the fatigue, the isolation, the absence of the link, she knew she was ready.
The world had changed around her, but for the first time, she was not lost. She could see what remained — not as emptiness, but as a space to choose.
And that choice… would be her most powerful weapon.