The Codex did not close.
It simply stopped asking.
Galathea Brooks stood before it a second longer than necessary, fingers hovering just above the page that had already resolved itself into something final. The chamber did not react. No shift in air, no tremor in structure, no acknowledgment that anything had changed.
Completion required no ceremony.
Beside her, Cael Alexander had already moved closer, his attention fixed on her rather than the pages.
"You go ahead and rest at the penthouse," he said, voice controlled, already reorganizing the aftermath into something manageable. "I have to finish up in the office."
It was practical.
Predictable.
Safe, in the way systems defined safety.
Galathea didn't answer immediately.
The silence stretched-- not uncertain, not fragile, but deliberate.
Inside that pause, something settled.
