For the first time, she closed her eyes. Just a heartbeat. Then opened them again.
"They won't catch us first."
That answer made a few exchange glances, because it wasn't the promise of victory. It meant something—or someone—would meet them before the hunters did.
Elisaré turned from the display toward the vine stair curling downward. Her voice carried a calm command.
"Send word to the caretakers. Begin core garden alignment. Prepare for containment, not confrontation."
The order rippled through the chamber. No one argued. They bowed their heads, moved quickly, and the vines along the walls pulsed faintly as if hearing.
"Are we ready?" one asked, careful, quiet.
Elisaré's answer came after a breath. "No flares. No calls. If they reach to us, we answer. Until then…" She looked back at the stars unfolding on the living screen.
"…we remain a forest drifting through the dark. No more. No less."
The lights dimmed slightly, adjusting to her will. The chamber quieted.
