The corridor back to Isla's room felt longer than it ever had before.
Every step echoed too loudly.
Every shadow felt deliberate.
Her skin still prickled, not from cold, but from the memory of being observed. Not touched—measured. Assessed the way valuable things were assessed before being claimed or destroyed.
When she reached her door, her hands shook as she pushed it open.
Gaia was already inside.
She was seated near the edge of the bed, posture stiff, fingers intertwined as if she had been waiting for hours rather than minutes. The moment Isla stepped in, Gaia stood abruptly.
"Did something happen?" Gaia asked.
Her voice was careful. Controlled. Too controlled.
Isla closed the door behind her and leaned against it, exhaling slowly. Her chest felt tight, like her ribs were locked in place.
"Did something happen?" Isla echoed faintly, then shook her head once. "Yeah. Something weird."
Gaia's eyes sharpened. "What kind of weird?"
