Following Otto's departure, time resumed its usual violence, demanding that everyone keep up.
The departure itself had been quiet. Otto had spoken through the reinforced glass before dawn, recorded a second message for later, and left for Alamina with the rulers who wore when duty had won nothing except the right to hurt in two places at once.
The first call had happened that same afternoon.
Arion had not been awake enough to say much. His eyes had barely opened, glassy and unfocused, his body still too exhausted to hold on to consciousness for long. But he had heard Otto's voice. Chris had seen it happen - the tiny, fragile shift in the boy's face, the way his fingers had twitched against the blanket, and the way panic had eased just enough to become something survivable.
That had been enough to build on.
So time passed.
