Tharic glanced at Lucien—
then gave a small nod.
"…Pilot it is."
Lucien exhaled once.
"…Yeah."
He stepped toward the door—
then paused.
Turning back slightly.
"…Don't let her slip."
Quiet.
Not a command.
A request.
Seryna's answer was immediate.
"…I won't."
No doubt.
No hesitation.
Lucien held her gaze for a second—
then turned.
Tharic followed.
The door opened.
Then closed behind them.
---
Silence again.
But different now.
Focused.
Contained.
Kaelira moved first.
Already at the storage.
Pulling out containers—
checking contents—
sniffing—
tasting lightly.
"…Basic stuff."
A glance back.
"…Nothing strong."
Lucien's sister stepped beside her—
taking one—
inspecting it.
"…Good."
Flat.
"…We start light."
Seryna adjusted her hold—
then moved toward the counter.
Careful.
Measured.
She set the girl down slowly—
supporting her neck—
keeping her stable.
The girl didn't react.
Didn't wake.
Still too far gone.
Kaelira clicked her tongue softly.
"…We're really doing this, huh."
No answer.
Because there wasn't another option.
---
**Elsewhere — Corridor**
Lucien and Tharic moved quickly.
Not rushing blindly—
but not slowing either.
"…You think he was serious?" Tharic muttered.
Lucien didn't look at him.
"…Yes."
A beat.
"…Completely."
Silence.
Then—
"…Great."
They turned a corner.
Already heading toward the control deck.
Because now—
they had a role.
And no room to fail.
---
The room remained quiet.
Still.
Draven stood by the bed—
his gaze lowered.
The children hadn't moved.
Breathing soft—
steady—
unaware.
Vaelith stepped forward—
the cloak in her hands.
"My lord."
Calm.
"…I'm done."
Draven reached out—
taking it.
His fingers adjusted along the fabric—
feeling it.
Measuring.
He lifted it slightly—
then put it on.
The cloth settled over him—
perfect.
The sleeves ran clean along his arms.
The length fell straight—
ending just above his ankles.
Balanced.
Fitted.
Draven looked down at it.
A brief pause.
"…Not bad."
Quiet.
Almost absent.
"…Didn't expect it to come out this clean."
Vaelith lowered her head slightly.
"…I'm honored, my lord."
Draven's gaze lifted—
resting on her for a moment.
Then—
"…Go."
Simple.
"…Get the clothes."
Vaelith nodded immediately.
"…Yes, my lord."
No hesitation.
No delay.
She vanished.
The room stilled again.
Silence returned.
Draven didn't move.
His eyes dropped back to the bed—
to the two small figures—
still asleep.
Unaware.
Untouched by everything outside this room.
His expression didn't change.
He just… watched.
The quiet stretched.
Unbroken.
Because for now—
there was nothing to do.
Nothing to decide.
Just wait.
And let everything else move around him.
---
**Control Deck**
The atmosphere had shifted.
Less tension.
More… routine.
Lyriana sat near the console—
a pastry in hand.
Unbothered.
Focused, even while eating.
Aldric hovered beside her—
leaning slightly—
a bottle in hand—
taking slow, casual drinks.
Like nothing earlier had mattered.
The cultist sat on the floor nearby—
the artifact resting close—
within reach—
a small portion of food in her hand as well.
Quiet.
Contained.
Then—
Vaelith appeared.
No sound.
No warning.
Just there.
Right beside Lyriana.
Lyriana paused—
just slightly.
A flicker of surprise.
Gone just as quickly.
Vaelith spoke.
Calm.
"…Clothes."
A beat.
"…For my lord."
Her gaze shifted briefly—
"…And a container. For the young ones."
The cultist responded immediately.
"…Yes, ma'am."
No delay.
No questions.
Her hand moved—
space folding lightly—
a ring on her finger pulsing faintly.
Clothes appeared first—
clean—
properly fitted.
Then a container—
sealed—
stable.
Prepared.
She held them out.
Vaelith took them.
A single nod.
And then—
she was gone.
Just as suddenly as she had come.
Lyriana resumed eating.
Aldric took another drink.
Unbothered.
The artifact remained between them—
quiet—
waiting.
Then—
the door opened.
Lucien.
Tharic.
They stepped in.
Both paused slightly—
taking in the scene.
Different.
Calmer than expected.
Aldric's eyes shifted first.
Landing on them.
"…That was quick."
Casual.
A faint smirk tugging at his lips.
Lyriana didn't look up.
Still eating.
But listening.
The cultist's gaze lifted—
quietly observing.
Waiting.
Because now—
they had come for a reason.
The cultist watched them.
Silent. Still.
*They really don't understand self-preservation…*
Tharic and Lucien didn't stop. They didn't hesitate either. They walked straight past Aldric and Lyriana, heading toward the front of the control deck where the pilot remained at his station.
At first, the pilot didn't react. His focus stayed locked on the controls—steady, precise, habitual.
Then—
"…Pilot."
Lucien's voice cut through cleanly.
A pause.
The pilot blinked once.
*Me?*
His eyes shifted slightly, then returned forward as realization settled in.
"…What is it?" he asked carefully.
Tharic stepped half a pace forward.
"…We were told to come to you."
Lucien followed immediately.
"…To ask what needs to be done," he added, "…to keep the ship running without problems."
Silence followed.
The pilot exhaled through his nose, measured.
So that's it.
His hands didn't leave the controls.
"…Then listen carefully."
His tone shifted—no longer uncertain, but instructional.
"…This ship doesn't run itself."
His eyes flicked across the console arrays.
"…Mana flow has to remain stable at all times."
A small gesture toward a side panel.
"…That means monitoring the core channels."
Another beat.
"…Pressure, output, circulation. If any of those drift—"
He paused briefly.
"…we feel it immediately."
Lucien's gaze tracked the systems, absorbing each word.
Tharic frowned.
"…And if it's not stable?"
The pilot didn't hesitate.
"…Then it fails."
Flat.
Unavoidable.
"…And if it fails badly enough—"
A pause.
"…we fall out of the air."
Silence tightened.
That landed.
Even the cultist's gaze shifted slightly toward them now—silent observation sharpening.
The pilot continued.
"…You don't need to control anything yet."
A glance toward them.
"…Just observe."
His tone hardened slightly.
"…If anything changes, you report it immediately."
Lucien nodded once.
"…Understood."
Tharic exhaled.
"…Yeah… we can do that."
Behind them, Aldric took another slow sip from his bottle, uninterested. Lyriana remained focused on the artifact, still being studied between herself and the cultist.
The cultist didn't speak—but her attention remained fixed.
*They're being assigned already…*
*Interesting.*
At the console, Lucien stepped closer to the display, studying the flow lines. Tharic positioned himself beside him, eyes scanning pressure readings and output indicators, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar structure.
Uncomfortable—but attentive.