He moved closer, his protective instincts flaring even though there was no danger here. He watched her press her palms flat against the earth, fingers spreading wide as if she could somehow absorb the feeling through her skin.
“It’s so soft,” she whispered. “And warm. And alive. I can feel things growing in it.”
She pulled up a handful of grass and brought it to her face, inhaling deeply. Her eyes fluttered closed in something that looked almost like ecstasy.
“The greenhouse smelled like plants,” she said. “But this is different. This is... wild. Uncontrolled. Things are growing here because they want to, not because I planted them.”
“That’s how the world works,” he said gently. “Things grow where they can. Find light where it’s available. Adapt to whatever conditions they’re given.”
“Like me?”
The question caught him off guard. He looked down at her—this small, fierce, impossibly brave woman who had spent her entire life in a cage and was now kneeling in the grass like it was sacred ground—and felt something shift in his chest.
“Like you,” he agreed.
A flash of silver caught his eye. Pip had launched himself from her shoulder, his gliding membrane spread wide, catching an updraft that lifted him higher than he had ever seen the small creature fly. The glider soared between the trees, chittering with unmistakable joy, executing loops and spirals that seemed almost celebratory.
She followed his path with shining eyes.
“He’s never had this much space before,” she said. “I didn’t realize... I mean, I knew the tower was small compared to the world. But I didn’t understand it until now. He must have feltso trapped. We both must have felt so trapped, without even knowing what we were missing.”
He sat down in the grass beside her, close enough to touch but not crowding her. The sun was warm on his back, the breeze cool on his face. Around them, the jungle hummed with life—small creatures moving through the undergrowth, birds calling from the canopy, the distant sound of water flowing over rocks.
“You knew something was missing,” he said. “That’s why you spent so much time at the observation windows. Why you kept records of everything you could see. You were trying to reach the world even when you couldn’t touch it.”
She looked at him, her expression soft and wondering. “You understand me.”
“I’m starting to.”
She reached out and took his hand again, weaving their fingers together. Then she flopped backward into the grass, pulling him down with her, and they lay there side by side, staring up at the endless blue sky above.
“It’s so big,” she breathed. “I knew the sky was big—I’ve been looking at it my whole life. But this is different. There’s no glass between us. No walls. Just... sky. Going on forever.”
He turned his head to watch her profile. The way her lips curved into a smile that seemed too wide for her face. The way her chest rose and fell with deep, greedy breaths, like she was trying to inhale the entire world at once. The way her free hand reached up, fingers spread wide, as if she could somehow touch the clouds.
This was what he’d wanted for her. This moment. This freedom. This wild, uncomplicated joy.
He’d spent so much time worrying about how to get her out, how to convince the AI to let her go, how to keep her safe once they left the tower. He’d barely stopped to imagine what it would actually feel like to watch her experience the world for the first time.
It felt like watching the sun rise after a lifetime of darkness.
“There are flowers over there,” she said suddenly, sitting up with an urgency that made Pip chirp in alarm from his perch in a nearby tree. “Real flowers, growing wild. Can we—can I?—”
“You can do whatever you want.”
The words seemed to hit her with physical force. She stared at him, her eyes going wide and glassy.
“Whatever I want?”
“You’re free, Liora. That’s what it means.”
She scrambled to her feet and ran towards the patch of color she’d spotted—a cluster of pink and purple blooms growing in a sun-dappled clearing near the base of an enormous tree. Baylin followed at a slower pace, content to watch her discover each new wonder.
She knelt before the flowers like she was approaching something sacred. Her fingers hovered over the petals, trembling slightly, before finally making contact.
“Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, they’re so soft. And the colors are different up close than they looked from the tower. There are patterns inside the petals—tiny veins, and spots, and these littlehairs near the center. I never knew. I thought I knew what flowers looked like, but I had no idea.”
She leaned forward and inhaled deeply.
