Mia woke up before the dark.
The room was still black, only the faint red glow of the digital clock cutting through: 5:07.
No birds. No wind. Just the low hum of the Sanctuary breathing around her.
She sat up slowly. The sheets were cool against her skin. For a second she didn't know whose body this was.
Then the dream slammed back in.
The stage.
Sixty-five thousand lights.
Baby's small, terrified voice cracking out of her own throat in front of the crowd.
Her mother's hand gripping hers too tight in the ambulance.
The white clinic doors.
The smell of disinfectant and lies.
Alice's memories came with it — sharp, glossy, fake.
The perfect smiles in every interview.
The way Alice tilted her head just right for the cameras.
The way Alice never cried where anyone could see.
Mia pressed her palms to her eyes.
They were all clearer now.
Alice, polished and empty.
Carmilla, soft and worried, already whispering *shh, little one, you're safe*.
Mircalla, chained and furious, still trying to drag her back to Triple E.
Baby, curled small and trembling in the corner.
Noire and Blanche, silent, watching.
Ami, quiet and steady.
And Lilith — always Lilith — coiled in the dark like black smoke, waiting for her turn.
Mia lowered her hands.
*Who the fuck am I?*
The question tasted like rust.
She stood, crossed the room on bare feet, and opened the window.
Cold night air rushed in, carrying pine and wet earth and the faint smell of animals. It hit her lungs like something honest.
She breathed it in, deep.
Below, movement in the dark.
Ludwig crossed the lawn, rifle slung over one shoulder. Atlas trotted beside him like a shadow with teeth. They were heading toward the enclosures to feed the rescued deer.
Mia watched them disappear into the trees.
No words.
No performance.
Just two damaged things moving through the dark because that was what they knew how to do.
She closed the window.
She pulled on the first hoodie she found.
And before any of the voices inside her head could argue, she slipped out of the room.