The room was still dark when Mia opened her eyes.
Not the white, sterile dark of the clinic.
This dark had weight. It smelled of pine and cold stone and the faint trace of last night's woodsmoke that had slipped under the door. The digital clock on the nightstand glowed 04:52. Red numbers, soft, almost kind.
She lay on her back and did not move.
For the first time in… she didn't know how long… the body felt like hers. Not borrowed. Not hijacked. Not waiting for the next voice to yank the steering wheel. Just hers.
She breathed in.
Slow. Deliberate. The way Aster had shown her once, two fingers resting lightly on her sternum. The air went all the way down, filled the belly, lifted the ribs, then left again without hurry. In. Out. No one else answered.
No Mircalla whispering *we have to go back*.
No Lilith coiled and smiling in the corners.
No Baby crying somewhere behind her eyes.
Only the sound of her own lungs and the distant, muffled hoot of an owl somewhere beyond the thick walls of the Sanctuary.
Mia sat up.
The sheets pooled around her waist. She wore one of Ludwig's old hoodies—too big, sleeves swallowing her hands—and soft black sweatpants Aster had left on her bed without a word. She pulled the hood up, let the fabric brush her newly shaved temples. The skin there still felt strange. Naked. Hers.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood.
Bare feet on warm wood.
The window was already cracked open a few inches; she had done that before sleeping. Cold mountain air slipped in like a secret. She crossed to it, pushed the frame wider, and leaned out.
The night was ending. A thin line of violet had begun to bleed along the eastern ridge. Below, the enclosures waited in the half-light—deer, the young faon with the injured leg, the old blind goat that trusted no one except Ludwig. Soon they would be hungry.
Mia closed her eyes and breathed again.
The control felt paper-thin. Like a single wrong thought could tear it. But it was there. Real. She could feel the edges of it in her chest, fragile and bright.
She whispered to the dark, voice barely audible even to herself.
"Okay… my turn."
No answer came from inside.
Only silence.
And for once, the silence felt like permission.