“Stabilize how?” Tomas asks.
Travnyk considers. “Physically. Neurologically. Emotionally.”
I do not like the sound of that.
The platform beneath our feet pulses once—soft, resonant. The light in the grooves around the chamber brightens in response, forming faint patterns that remind me uncomfortably of targeting arrays.
I shift closer to Lia, not touching her, but near enough that my presence blocks half the room from her. She notices, and that warms my scales. I like that she pays attention.
“I’m still here,” she says softly.
“I know,” I reply.
What I do not say is that the ship knows too—and it does not like how close I am.
The hum deepens again. A vibration travels up through my feet and into my chest, settling against my hearts like a pressurewave that never quite breaks. The air warms slightly, but it is not heat—it is energy. Travnyk’s attention snaps upward.
“This chamber… it is initializing,” he says, looking quickly around.
“For what?” Tomas asks weakly.
“For… assessment,” Travnyk says.
“Didn’t it?—”
I am cut off before I can finish my thought by the ship acting.
The grooves along the walls illuminate in sequence, starting at the floor and climbing upward, tracing concentric rings around the chamber. The light washes over Tomas first; he stiffens, but nothing happens.
The scan moves to Travnyk. He remains still, unflinching, eyes calm. Again—nothing.
Then the light reaches me.
The hum spikes. Not alarm this time. Recognition.
The pressure in the room increases sharply around us. My scales prickle as if brushed by static. The light lingers on my chest, my shoulders, my wings—hesitating at each point like it is comparing me to something stored deep within its memory.
I bare my teeth. The ship responds by tightening the pressure another fraction. I plant my feet and hold my ground.
“Enough,” I growl.
Lia steps forward, immediately, without hesitation. She places her hand against my forearm—firm, anchoring—and thepressure eases as if the ship recalibrates the instant she touches me. The light shifts away from me, sliding instead toward her.
The hum smooths. My hearts slam painfully. Travnyk exhales, slow and thoughtful.
“It would appear that it is adjusting threat parameters based on her proximity.”
“That’s comforting,” Tomas mutters.
“It is,” Travnyk says. “For her.”
“It still does not like me,” I say, turning my head slowly toward Lia.
She does not look at the ship. She looks at me. Apology flickers in her eyes—quick, frustrated, helpless.
“I didn’t mean for it to?—”
“I know,” I cut in.
