The morning light rested over the dojo like a faint mist that had forgotten its way to the forest. The wooden windows allowed a gentle glow to enter, gliding unhurriedly across the tatami mats, spreading in uneven stripes over the tables. The air smelled of hot oatmeal and freshly toasted bread—a domestic fragrance that contrasted with the violence of the previous night. Here, everything seemed still, as if the world had allowed itself a breath before continuing.

Kael Ardom sat at the central table. His white tunic, immaculate even after dawn, seemed to absorb the clarity of the surroundings rather than reflect it. His back was straight, his posture serene—the same one he had carried all his life, the one he taught without needing words. Before him was a bowl of oatmeal he had not yet touched; the steam rose in faint, almost timid lines, fading into the air without his notice. His deep blue eyes did not look at anything in particular, yet they were not absent either. It was a gaze that encompassed space without holding it.

To his right, Virka ate slowly. Not with pleasure or hunger, but with a measured rhythm her body had adopted out of habit rather than need. Her jet-black hair fell over one side of her face, partially covering the tense line of her jaw. Her bright red eyes, without a clear pupil, remained fixed on a point beyond the table—focused neither on the food nor the people, yet understanding every movement, every breath. She was present, but within her own silent dimension. Her posture was firm but not aggressive; it was the calm of a wild animal that knows the territory before anyone else.

On the other side, Narka occupied a space that seemed too small for his size. Even in his reduced form, he retained the ancient gravity that always accompanied him. His body, made of dark mineral plates and reddish veins, shimmered faintly under the dojo's light. His golden, ancient, pupil-less eyes watched Valentina with the same silent melancholy that had defined him since before the ages had names. He did not eat, did not speak, but his presence upheld a balance that no one dared to name.

Valentina sat between Kael and Virka. Sitting with her legs together, arms close to her torso, she held a piece of toasted bread in both hands, biting it carefully. Her white hair fell in messy strands over her face, partially covering her left eye. The right one—dark brown—moved from side to side with a mix of shyness and soft alertness. Her left eye, light blue, remained hidden behind her hair, as if she still feared that showing it could bring consequences.

She ate slowly. Not from lack of hunger, but because she still didn't know if she was allowed to take more than what she was given. The dojo's atmosphere was strange to her: too calm, too safe, too free from the shadows she had known. And yet, there was something in that silence that didn't frighten her, but rather filled her with a warm caution. As if that space, without her understanding why, had begun to recognize her.

Her voice came out barely as a murmur, so soft that for an instant only Kael and Virka heard it.

—My dad… hasn't come back yet?

The word "dad" trembled a little, but she didn't correct it. It came from a place in her chest that didn't know how to disobey. She said it as if it were a prayer. As if the world depended on that word.

Kael turned his gaze toward her with absolute calm.

—Not yet —he replied, without dramatics, without softening his voice—. Helena went to see him.

Valentina nodded slowly. She didn't smile, didn't show visible relief, but her body lowered by a millimeter, as if she had stopped holding an invisible weight. Virka glanced at her briefly, barely inclining her head. Narka looked at her with the gravity of one who recognizes a small step forward in a fragile being.

Kael took a small piece of bread and placed it in front of her, without a word. Valentina took it with both hands, as if it were something too precious to trust to just one. She didn't eat it immediately; she held it for a moment, feeling the warmth pass through her fingers.

The dojo's silence was not uncomfortable. It was a structured silence, full of meaning without the need to express it. Virka was finishing her oatmeal. Narka kept his head slightly inclined, as if listening to some ancient echo that only he could hear. Kael remained serene, taking a slow sip of hot tea.

The side door of the dojo opened with a gentle movement. Helena entered without making a sound, as if her presence had been calculated not to disturb the atmosphere. Her face bore the same expression as always: neutral, lucid, tired of the world but without letting that weariness affect her functionality. She approached the table and took a cup of tea without asking permission. She did it with the naturalness of someone who had belonged to the place for years.

—Sebastián is stable —she said without preamble—. Selena is still asleep. She'll wake up soon. They'll come for breakfast in a few minutes.

Valentina squeezed the piece of bread in her hands a little, but said nothing. Her breathing deepened slightly, as if she had been holding it without realizing.

—Let them come when they're ready —Kael replied, his voice low and firm.

Helena took a sip of tea before continuing.

—The vehicle repairs will take two days —she explained—. The module will be reinforced. I've already sent the requests. The attack data is being processed.

Kael nodded once.

Helena turned her gaze toward Virka.

—You must integrate into the classes without raising suspicion —she said, in her direct tone—. Acting like a normal student is necessary.

Virka didn't respond with words. She only nodded once—dry, contained.

Narka watched Helena with silent attention. Not out of distrust, but because his way of analyzing was deeper, slower. He didn't intervene, but absorbed every detail.

Then Helena said what truly mattered for the course of the day:

—Rakzar's athletic module is the closest link to the blacksmiths' technology. That's where you must focus. Sebastián and Virka must enter that class.

Kael lifted his gaze, unsurprised.

Virka remained motionless, listening.

Valentina, though she didn't fully understand, raised her head, attentive.

Narka leaned slightly forward, as if the information carried physical weight.

—It's the most direct route —Helena continued—. We can't lose it.

Kael finished his cup of tea with a slow movement, heavy with meaning.

The dojo remained silent for a few more seconds. It was a calm charged with the future, with imminent movement, with decisions already set in motion even though no one spoke them aloud.

Helena looked toward the dojo's entrance. Her eyes measured a point the others could not see.

—They're coming —she said.

Kael set down his cup.

Virka turned her head slightly toward the door.

Narka shifted just enough for the movement to be noticed, minimal but unmistakable.

Valentina gripped her bread with both hands, motionless, waiting.

The scene hung suspended.

Ready to receive the arrival of Sebastián and Selena.

The interior of the vehicle had lost all tension, as if the dawn had washed the air clean of the night's screams and steel. The white energy of the core no longer pulsed; only remnants of its glow lingered along the edges of the metal—a dim breath resisting death. The silence was deep, the kind that weighs more than any sound. Inside, daylight filtered through the cracks, turning the air into a succession of faint golden lines that touched the floor with the softness of an unspoken vow.

Selena was still asleep. Her chest moved with measured slowness, her breathing a thread that seemed to sustain itself by pure habit. There was no sweat or strain on her face, only an exhaustion that transcended the body. Her mind, even in sleep, seemed to have collapsed inward. The previous night had drained something deeper than energy: it had drained her active will. All that remained was that dense, necessary rest that only bodies that have fought too long can afford.

Sebastián watched her. Not with tenderness, nor desire, nor sorrow. He watched her as one measures the pulse of a flame before deciding whether to feed it or let it die. His gaze did not judge, nor did it seek to console; it was cold, analytical, almost reverent in its silence. There was no doubt in it, only practical understanding. He understood that she needed to sleep, that waking her would mean destroying the little her mind had managed to preserve. He remained still, his red eyes rotating slowly, like two silent tornadoes measuring the stillness of the world.

The air inside the vehicle smelled of warm metal and residual ozone. Nothing moved. Yet deep in his mind, Sebastián knew the time to remain there had ended. The others would be waiting for him in the dojo. Kael did not demand explanations, but balance required presence. And leaving Selena alone… was not an option. Not out of attachment, but out of principle. In his scale of values, abandoning an unconscious ally was equivalent to surrendering to weakness. The decision, then, required no thought.

He leaned forward. The movement was exact, measured. His arms, hardened by scars and calluses, surrounded Selena's inert body without hesitation. He lifted her with the ease of a soldier taking up his weapon: without affection, without weight, without error. His body did not tense, his breathing did not change. He held her in his arms, in a princess carry, with the precision of one who has learned that even strength must know care. The contact was neither warm nor distant; it was correct. His gaze remained fixed ahead as the morning light touched his shoulders and her hair, merging both into a single long shadow across the metallic floor.

He opened the side door. The sound was brief—a clean cut through the air. The outside world received him with a murmur of leaves and a scattered gleam. Outside, the forest seemed to breathe at the same rhythm as he did: slow, controlled, alert. He walked. His steps were firm, without the slightest hesitation. Each step measured the ground, but did not doubt it. The light filtered through the treetops and fell upon his back in white flashes, illuminating for moments Selena's face, sunk in the calm of a sleep that was not yet rest.

The contrast was visible. He: awake, conscious, carrying a decision. She: surrendered, given to the restorative void of unconsciousness. Nature understood it without words; the birds did not sing, the leaves did not dare to fall. It was a contained passage, almost ceremonial. In his stride lay an ancestral logic: to protect what rests.

The dojo appeared among the trees, silent, spread out like a house that keeps secrets but not fear. The open windows let the inner light spill out—warm, human. Sebastián crossed the threshold. The instant his feet touched the tatami, the air changed density. It was not sound that stilled those present, but the image itself: him entering with Selena in his arms, with the naturalness of one who carries a consequence, not a burden.

Time stopped.

Virka was the first to react. Her gaze, which until that moment had remained distant, focused with almost physical precision on the figure that had just appeared. The glow of her red eyes seemed to sharpen. She didn't move much—barely half a centimeter—but her whole body changed tone. The tension was minimal, barely perceptible, yet real. It wasn't aggression. It was something more instinctive, primal: a vibration in her presence that responded to what she didn't understand. Her eyes traveled from Selena's sleeping face to Sebastián's. There was no reproach, no anger. Only a different silence—heavier, more contained—something even she couldn't name.

Sebastián perceived it immediately. The change in air pressure, the subtle variation in the atmosphere. It wasn't surprise or suspicion: it was the recognition of a shifted force. He didn't interpret it as emotion; his mind didn't process reactions that way. He simply registered the presence. He lifted his head slightly toward her—a small gesture, but enough to confirm that he had noticed. Then, without a word, he continued walking, Selena's weight steady, his breathing constant. He didn't seek to soften or provoke. He simply continued.

Kael watched from his place with the unshakable serenity of one who had already understood before seeing. His blue eyes showed no judgment, only comprehension. He knew what Sebastián was doing, knew why he was doing it. There was no reason to interfere. He only turned his gaze briefly toward Virka, acknowledging the tension as an inevitable process between powerful presences. Then he returned his attention to Sebastián, confirming that the balance remained.

Narka, from his corner, slightly inclined his head. His golden eyes followed the boy's trajectory with a stillness that seemed to come from centuries past. He didn't look at Selena with compassion, but with respect. His mineral, ancient body emitted a faint sound of friction as he moved, almost as if recognizing that the act carried spiritual weight. The tension in the air didn't disturb him; he accepted it as a natural echo of what had to occur.

Helena assessed everything without visible emotion. Her eyes moved with surgical precision—from Selena's pale face, to Sebastián's unshaken expression, then to Virka's hardening features. No detail escaped her observation. She didn't see conflict, but a solved equation. The equilibrium remained intact. She simply recorded the fact: Sebastián had done the right thing.

Valentina, from her corner, shrank slightly in her seat. Her brown eye widened, and the blue one hidden behind her hair trembled without showing. She looked first at Sebastián, then at Selena's sleeping body. She didn't feel jealousy or confusion, only a fearful unease. Her voice slipped out in a barely audible thread.

—Dad… is she okay?

Sebastián turned his face slightly toward her.

—She needed to rest —he replied, his tone firm, dry, without inflection. He added nothing more.

Silence returned. Kael, without saying a word, extended a hand toward a space in the dojo: a clean, quiet tatami beside the side wall. Sebastián moved toward it.

Each step echoed with an inner, deep pulse. When he arrived, he slowly lowered Selena and laid her down with precision. His movements were not careful in the emotional sense, but technical, exact, designed to avoid disturbing her rest. He positioned her so that her breathing flowed unobstructed, so that her body could release the tension it had accumulated. The light surface of the tatami received her as though the air itself were wrapping around her.

Selena did not wake. Her face remained serene, with only a faint trace of pallor. Only the movement of her chest revealed life. Sebastián straightened silently, observed her one last time, and stepped back half a pace. Stillness reclaimed the space he had displaced.

No one spoke.

Kael kept observing, Helena memorized, Virka contained, Narka listened to the silence, and Valentina barely breathed. The entire dojo was a tableau suspended between calm and unspoken understanding.

Virka finally regained her stability. The density that had emanated from her dissipated with the same naturalness as an animal once more recognizing its territory as its own. She didn't avert her gaze, but softened it. In her mind lingered the echo of something she didn't want to analyze.

Valentina took a timid step forward, moving slightly closer, though without touching. Helena lowered her gaze, mentally noting the shifts in each of them. Narka remained still, bearing the gravity of one who understands the invisible cycles that unite and separate living beings.

Kael exhaled slowly. Within that exhalation was an invisible signal: the moment to speak would soon return. Now that Selena was safe, the day could continue, and the next decisions had to begin taking shape.

The silence that closed the scene was not that of an ending, but of a transition toward something greater.

The silence after rest settled like a mist that no one dared to interrupt. It was a dense, measured silence, woven from the threads of dawn filtering through the dojo's windows. Where Sebastián had laid Selena down, the stillness seemed deeper, as if the air itself understood that something around her sleeping body had to remain untouched. The tatami breathed beneath her; the light traced the edges of her motionless form. Nothing disturbed that small sanctuary built by calm. Sebastián stood a step behind, back straight, like a statue newly brought from a place where decision weighs more than time.

Kael was the first to shift the invisible center of the scene. It wasn't a sudden movement—merely a small adjustment in his breathing, a slight tilt of his head. His presence returned to the heart of the dojo with the naturalness of one who had never left it. His deep blue eyes moved slowly—from Sebastián to Helena, from Helena to Virka, from Virka to Valentina, and finally to Narka. Each glance was a silent reading, a confirmation that the moment had arrived. He didn't need to raise his voice; when he spoke, the air was already listening.

—It's time —he said, serene, without a single thread of emotion sewn into the phrase.

The sound barely brushed the space. The calm of the dojo held it without breaking. It was not an announcement, nor an order, nor a judgment. It was the simple acceptance of a necessary step. Then he turned slightly toward Helena—the gesture that granted continuity.

Helena caught the signal before he even finished turning. She stepped forward, the cup of tea still warm between her fingers. Her face retained the neutrality that defined her: that perfect balance between lucidity and exhaustion, between precision and the absence of dramatics. Her voice entered the air like a sharpened blade.

—We must return to the institute.

She added no softness, no warm inflection. Her way of speaking was a clean stroke. The sound barely vibrated against the wooden walls, but its weight fell upon everyone. She drew a slow breath and continued.

—Everything is ready to resume classes —she went on—. The schedules have been adjusted. The modules are operational. The staff has been reorganized to avoid discrepancies with previous activities.

It sounded like a report she had already processed hours ago, perhaps even before dawn.

—Rakzar's athletic module will be the key point —she added, with an emphasis born not from emotion, but from analysis—. The blacksmiths' technology is integrated into that space more than any other. If we are to move forward, that is where we must focus.

The silence grew heavier, as if everyone registered the weight of the name: Rakzar.

Helena turned her head toward Sebastián.

—You and Virka must integrate there —she declared—. Without raising suspicion. Without disrupting the flow of the day. The mission depends on it.

She didn't say it as a warning, nor as an attempt at pressure. It was an equation. A fact.

Sebastián nodded once. He did not speak. His breathing remained steady; his body showed no emotional variation. He seemed like a rock that had accepted its own permanence. His red eyes, still turning slowly in their dark centers, focused on Helena, then on the void. That nod contained acceptance and resolve, leaving no space for alternatives.

Virka, beside him, moved only her eyelids. Her red gaze stayed fixed on the floor for a second, then rose just slightly toward Helena. The silence emanating from her had an edge, but no aggression. It was the wild stillness that precedes a leap, but without the intent to leap. She simply received the order, absorbed it, and stored it somewhere deep within that dark instinct she never fully revealed.

Narka didn't need to move to express understanding. His golden eyes—two ancient, pupil-less wells—remained fixed on Helena, listening without intervening. His mineral body showed no reaction, yet his presence grew denser, as if every word she spoke added a new stratum of meaning to the silence he had carried since ages long forgotten.

Valentina, on the other hand, lowered her gaze slightly. She tightened her grip on the piece of bread she still held, as if she needed a physical reference amid so much information she couldn't quite grasp. Her brown eye moved from face to face without daring to linger on any for long. She said nothing, but her breathing grew a little shorter, as though she were waiting for someone to explain what all of this meant for her.

Helena resumed the thread.

—I've already given the order for the uniforms and credentials to be brought —she informed—. They'll arrive shortly, delivered by my personnel. You don't need to take part in that process.

There was no imposed authority in her voice—it was natural authority, the kind that belongs to someone who has already completed the work before the others have even woken.

The atmosphere remained serene. A strange order, almost ritual. Nothing seemed out of place. Nothing was superfluous. The air had the texture of steel cooled after the forge.

Valentina raised her hand, barely. Not to call attention, but to make sure she had permission to speak. The question came out as if she feared the sound might break something.

—Do I… have to go too?

The girl didn't lift her gaze much. Her voice was soft, like a thread that could snap at the slightest touch. But the question was there—firm within her fragility.

Kael looked at her with calm eyes and answered without detours, without pauses, without softening the truth.

—Yes.

The word fell with exact weight, without harshness. It wasn't a strict order nor a forced obligation. It was a simple truth. Valentina lowered her gaze, but not out of fear—it was more a silent acceptance that her path followed theirs, even if she couldn't yet understand why.

Narka, positioned beside her, inclined his head slightly toward her. It wasn't a human gesture; it was something deeper—a silent acknowledgment. His presence became more protective, closer, as though he had extended an invisible mantle around Valentina. The girl seemed to feel it, for her breathing steadied a little.

Helena observed that small exchange, recorded it without interfering, and continued.

—We'll depart shortly —she announced—. Once the team arrives with the credentials, we'll move immediately.

Kael nodded, confirming the decision without the need for words. He didn't move more than necessary, but his nod carried the weight of a master who understands the entire map, even the areas others have yet to see.

Movement began to spread through the dojo. It wasn't noisy or chaotic. Everything unfolded with the silent precision of a ritual that had been rehearsed before it ever existed. Sebastián stepped half a pace forward, calibrating the distance between his position and the wall where Selena rested. He didn't touch her, didn't look at her for too long. He simply verified that her breathing continued undisturbed.

Virka slid toward the exit, her steps nearly inaudible on the tatami. She neither hurried nor lingered. It was as though the space itself recognized her and made way without resistance. Every movement of hers was contained, measured—wild in essence but tempered by learned calm.

Valentina rose from the tatami where she had been sitting. Her small body trembled slightly, but not from fear: it was the natural tension of someone who has lived too long in silence. She walked toward Narka, who received her without words, adjusting his stance to walk beside her without the need to touch.

Helena went out first, like one opening a path already calculated. Her steps were straight, steady, without distractions or unnecessary glances.

Kael remained beside Selena. His presence was an anchor—a stillness that stabilized everything. He did so without showing concern; he did so because balance required it.

The dojo door opened. Not with force, but with a gentle motion that let the outside light in. A cold, broad light that bathed the figures beginning to step out. Each advanced toward the threshold in a natural order: first Helena, then Sebastián, then Virka, followed by Valentina with Narka at her side.

The light received them without judgment. The forest breathed with them.

And the silence that closed the scene was not an ending, but the beginning of the passage.

The outer light slid along the dojo's edges like a held breath finally finding release. Helena crossed the threshold first, her figure outlined against the pale gleam of dawn. She made no sound; her presence seemed made of calculation, precision, and a weariness that didn't dull her but sharpened every movement. Behind her came Sebastián, his long shadow stretching across the open ground, as though his very existence split the air in two. Virka followed, with the tense calm of an animal who knows every stone of its territory. Then came Valentina—small, silent—close to Narka's invisible edge, while he walked beside her with that ancient gravity that seemed to recall entire eras with every step.

The light received them without judgment. There was no strong wind, no impulsive sound, no urgency. Only the forest breathing slowly, as if watching those who departed from the refuge.

Momentarily, the dojo remained behind them. The door stayed open. Kael remained inside, anchored beside Selena, whose steady breathing persisted like a faint thread holding the emotional balance of dawn. Nothing could hasten that moment. The world ordered itself around her stillness.

Outside the dojo, the vehicle waited. Its metallic structure—reinforced, still marked by the remnants of the previous night—rested like a sleeping beast, ready to awaken the moment the mission demanded it. Beside it were two rectangular containers, discreet, sealed with codes whose blue lights blinked in a steady rhythm. Helena didn't need to approach to confirm: her team had fulfilled its task. The uniforms and credentials were already there.

Sebastián stepped forward, his firm figure outlined against the light. He didn't speak. He didn't ask. He simply waited for the slightest signal from Helena to begin. She gave only a small nod. That was enough. Sebastián moved toward the nearest container. The air around him seemed to tense with each step—not from aggression, but from the density of his presence. The metal reacted to his proximity with a faint beep. The lid opened. He took the uniform assigned to him. He didn't inspect it; he didn't analyze it. He simply took it and began to put it on with the functional precision that defined everything he did.

Virka approached the second container. Her movement was so silent it didn't even disturb the light dust on the stones. She opened the box. Took her uniform without breaking the natural rhythm of her breathing. There was no shame, no haste in her actions; her posture remained upright, firm, as if donning that uniform were merely another step in the inevitability of the mission. Her hair fell over her shoulders as she leaned forward for a moment. Her red eyes glimmered with that inner light that never faded.

Valentina watched from a step behind. Her brown eye moved carefully. Her breathing remained restrained, short, as though she still feared taking up more space than she was allowed. Helena leaned toward her—not with maternal gentleness, but with efficient neutrality.

—This one is for you —she said, extending a small credential, the size of the child's palm.

Valentina took it with both hands. She held it as though it were something too precious to trust to just one. She didn't look at it immediately. She felt it first. Then she raised her face slightly toward Helena, seeking confirmation.

Helena nodded once.

Narka, beside her, inclined his mineral body forward, the black and gray plates parting slightly. He made no sound, but his presence wrapped around Valentina like a silent wall. The girl's breathing grew a little steadier.

Sebastián finished adjusting his uniform. He slowly stretched the fabric on his left arm, then his right. His scars tightened beneath the cloth, visible only as shadows of a past that would never fade. His red gaze shifted toward Helena.

—Ready —he said, his voice dry, without adornment.

Virka finished as well. She tightened the belt in silence. Her back remained straight, her aura still. She didn't need words. Helena watched her for a second—approval unspoken, but clear.

The exterior remained static. But inside the dojo, Kael stood motionless beside Selena. The silence around her was deep, almost sacred. When Helena raised her voice just enough, he heard her from within.

—Everything's ready —she said, without shouting, without haste.

Kael leaned slightly toward Selena. His hand rested on the edge of the tatami. His calm breathing seemed to adjust the balance of the space itself. With a measured motion, he lifted her. Her body remained asleep, her breathing steady, her eyes closed in a rest she would never have allowed otherwise. Kael carried her effortlessly. There was no visible tenderness, but there was protection—functional, firm, exact. The master walked toward the dojo's exit, crossing into the light that awaited him.

When he stepped through the threshold, the atmosphere seemed to straighten around him. Sebastián watched the scene without moving a single muscle. Virka watched as well, her red eyes recording every detail. Valentina instinctively took a step back at the sight of Selena in Kael's arms. Narka adjusted his stance, as if absorbing her movement.

—Ready —Helena said.

It was the final signal.

The group approached the vehicle. Helena boarded first, sliding her hand along the internal panels as the door opened automatically. Sebastián entered without pause, taking his natural position—not by explicit hierarchy, but by the evident force of his presence. Virka followed him, her silent posture filling the space without claiming it. Valentina climbed in carefully, guided by the invisible hand that was Narka's constant presence. The ancient creature's mineral body made the metal floor vibrate subtly as he entered, as though the vehicle recognized a weight that didn't belong to any human era.

Kael came last, carrying Selena still asleep. He settled her into a reinforced seat, adjusting the incline so her breathing flowed easily. He said nothing. He didn't need to.

When everyone was inside, the door closed. The sound was a dry echo—final. The vehicle activated. Internal energy coursed through the panels in white lines, lighting the interior with a soft glow.

The journey began.

At first, the forest receded slowly, as if reluctant to release them. The shadows of the trees stretched across the body of the vehicle, painting dark lines that slid backward. The outside world seemed to watch without interfering, while the interior filled with a dense silence. It wasn't an oppressive silence—it was the silence of those who know that what comes next determines paths.

Sebastián kept his gaze fixed on an indeterminate point before him. He wasn't thinking about what they had left behind, but about what was to come. His red eyes turned slowly, like two deep whirlwinds breaking every stimulus down into simpler fragments. He showed no tension. No calm. It was pure stillness—sharpened, ready.

Virka, seated only a few centimeters from him, kept her aura contained. It wasn't docility; it was wild calm, tamed by will. She looked out the window, but her gaze didn't follow the trees or the movement. It followed something older, deeper—something she never named. Her black hair fell over her shoulders like a living shadow.

Valentina remained close to Narka, the credential still between her fingers. She gripped the edge of the plastic as if she needed a firm point to hold on to. Her brown eye searched for signs in the others' faces, but found them too dense, too strong, too different. Narka's presence wrapped around her like a silent armor. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. His golden eyes saw beyond the metal, beyond the forest, beyond the dawn. They saw the path.

Helena checked the panels. Her expression didn't change. She didn't glance toward any of them. Her mind worked, processing information invisible to the rest. The journey was necessary. The arrival inevitable.

Kael remained beside Selena, his posture straight even while seated. His deep blue eyes stared into the emptiness before him, but his attention rested on the faint rhythm of her breathing. He was a silent guardian within a suspended space.

The institute began to appear in the distance—not as an imposing building, but as a structure rising from the horizon with the calm of something that had been there long before they existed. The lines of the building grew sharper, more defined, more real as the vehicle advanced.

The silence inside was never broken. The vehicle stopped before the main entrance. The doors opened.

One by one, they descended.

The light of the new place received them. It wasn't the light of the forest. It was colder, more human, more structured. A space where normality hid secrets, where calm had sharp edges.

They crossed the first stretch of the path.

And when the threshold of the institute rose before them, none hesitated.

They entered.

The academic world absorbed them like a deep breath just beginning.

_____________________________________________________

END OF CHAPTER 52

The path continues…

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