Lilith stood in front of the console as the final signal shifted from blinking to solid green. The light dimmed slowly, the interface responding to completion, not failure.
She didn't move at first. Not because she was hesitating. Not because there was more to calculate. That part of the operation was already done.
The signals were in place. The threats removed. The lines shut down. There was nothing left to consider.
She was simply quiet.
The kind of silence that came right before the snow settled for good. That small, exact moment before the last breath of wind dropped away and the frost on the branches decided to stay.
Still. Permanent. Final.
Then, without a word, she turned.
The hallway lights sensed her movement and adjusted just slightly—softening, warming, aligning—as if the house itself understood who was walking through it.
The maids that used to be invisible normally suddenly appeared as they were all stationed near the grand corridor didn't speak.
