The moment Clara stepped out of that underground chamber, the world felt different. Not changed by sight or sound but weight. The air was heavier, charged like the breath before a thunderclap. Her mother walked behind her, weak but proud, wrapped in a cloak Clara had ripped from Ryker's storage. He hadn't followed them. Not immediately.
That unnerved her more than if he had.
The silence stretched.
Then, as they neared the clearing, Ryker emerged calm, hands behind his back, expression unreadable. The moonlight caught the silver in his hair, the bloodline they now all shared clearer than ever.
"I didn't expect you to leave so soon," he said.
Clara didn't stop walking. "Then you're worse at reading people than I thought."
He matched her pace. "I let her go, Clara. I gave you the truth. Doesn't that earn me something?"
She laughed. "It earns you the knowledge that I didn't kill you on sight."
