The morning at the farmhouse brought the smell of real toasted oats and the low, comforting lowing of livestock in the distance. Sunlight, unburdened by the heavy smog of the city, poured through the kitchen windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing over the wooden table.
Thomas and Elena sat at the head of the table, their thoughts a steady, warm hum of hospitality. They looked at Sofia—still submerged in the oversized emerald sweater—with a tenderness that made Jessica's skin prickle.
The Work of a Ghost"I'm heading back into the Hub," Jessica said, her voice cutting through the soft morning chatter. She didn't look up from her plate, her fingers tearing a piece of bread with clinical precision. "The shopkeeper from the 'Fuel & Feed' said there's more water to haul and the vents need scrubbing. I can earn enough for another week of supplies by sundown."
Jessica's mind was already calculating the risks. She needed to be in the Hub to listen. She needed to know if the "false positive" from the school check had turned into a formal hunt.
"You're working too hard, Jessica," Elena said softly, reaching out to touch Jessica's hand. Jessica pulled back, a reflexive twitch. "You're safe here. There's no need to break your back for a few extra credits."
"Safety is a debt you pay every day," Jessica replied, her eyes cold. "I don't intend to fall behind."
The School InvitationMira, who had been uncharacteristically quiet while watching Sofia eat, suddenly leaned forward. The devotion from the night before hadn't faded; it had solidified into a protective mission.
"If Jessica is going to be in town all day, Sofia shouldn't stay here hiding in the barn," Mira said, her eyes bright with an idea that made Jessica's heart stop. "Our local schoolhouse is just over the ridge. It's not like the Academies in the city. There are no Wave-Seeker rods, no Purity Officers. It's just us."
Leo nodded enthusiastically. "Most of the kids there are from farm families. Nobody asks questions. Sofia could actually... you know, see what a normal day looks like."
Jessica's fork clattered against her plate. "No. Absolutely not."
"Please, Jess," Sofia whispered.
Jessica turned to her sister. Sofia's blue eyes were wide, pleading. She was looking at Mira with a desperate kind of hope—the hope of a girl who had spent her entire life behind shuttered windows and mental shields.
"Mira says they have a library," Sofia continued, her voice small but firm. "And they play games in the yard. I'll stay behind Mira. I'll be a shadow. I promise."
The YieldJessica looked at the twins' parents. She read their minds—they truly believed the valley was invisible to Wane. She looked at Mira, whose mind was a fortress of irrational, "Influence"-driven loyalty. Finally, she looked at Sofia.
The girl was twelve years old and had never stood in a room of children without a soldier watching her.
"Fine," Jessica said, the word tasting like ash. "But you stay within an arm's reach of Mira. If you feel a headache—any headache—you leave. You run back here and you don't stop."
"I will, Jess! I promise!" Sofia beamed, a radiant smile that made the kitchen feel five degrees warmer.
Jessica stood up, her chair screeching against the floor. She felt a sickening swirl of envy and fear. Mira was giving Sofia the childhood Jessica had stolen to keep her alive. As Jessica walked toward the door, preparing for a day of grime and heavy lifting, she watched Mira lead Sofia toward the coat rack.
Mira was laughing, adjusting the giant green sleeves for her. Sofia was giggling.
She's forgetting the rules, Jessica thought, her telepathy catching a flare of pure, unguarded joy from Sofia. And when she forgets the rules, the world remembers she exists.