Location:Seven Peaks — Bryn's Garden, Residential Quarter
Date/Time:TC1855.06.18 (Morning)
Mira ordered her to take two hours.
Not suggested. Ordered. The healer who spent sixteen-hour days absorbing other people's pain stood in the command center doorway at 06:00 and said, in the voice she used for patients who argued with medical instructions: "Two hours. No reports. No formation slates. No containment level. If I see you in this building before 08:00, I will sedate you."
"You don't have the authority to—"
"Try me."
Raven took the two hours.
She didn't know what to do with them. Her body carried the rhythm of weeks without pause — the command center at dawn, the logistics review, the intelligence briefing, the scanner reports, the cold-corridor flags, the pulse data, the evacuation numbers. Without the rhythm, she felt unmoored. A machine with its drive shaft removed, still vibrating with the ghost of rotation.
