October, 1096

The 4th. Opal is allowed out of the ward today.

I've triple-checked the medical clearances with Erika, who checked them with Miss Sussurro. Opal can finally leave her high-security quarantine ward, and it has been a long time coming. Podenco still owes us the big tea party she promised back when the thunderstorm of the Tkaronto Catastrophe trapped us all inside. Between the endless triage shifts and the chaotic aftermath of the recent deployments, everyone was too busy, and everyone forgot.

Until today.

After a quick breakfast of red bean rolls, we head for Opal's ward.

I step inside the cool room with Erika close behind me.

"Good morning, Opal," I say, offering a bright smile.

"Lethe. Erika," Opal replies. She's sitting up on her mattress, her ears resting limply against her shoulders, her hands clutching the brown plushie to her chest.

"We're going to the garden today, Opal," I say gently, taking a small step closer to the edge of her bed. "It's going to be fun. Miss Lena and Podenco have prepared a big celebration for you."

The moment the words leave my mouth, Opal goes rigid. Her ears pin themselves flat and her knuckles turn white on the plushie.

The spike of fear hits the back of my tongue like cracked ice and bitter medicine.

I look back at Erika. Her face twists with aching understanding, and she gives me an encouraging nod.

I turn back to her, lower my Arts Unit until the base rests quietly on the floor, and reach out to offer my hand over the blankets.

"It's okay to be scared, Opal. The landship is really big, and the hallways can be very loud. I was terrified of them too when I first left my room."

I lean in a little. "But you won't be alone for a single second," I promise her, holding her eyes. "Erika will be right behind us, and I'll hold your hand the whole way. If it gets too loud, or if the air feels too heavy, you just squeeze my fingers and we stop. Okay?"

For a long moment the only sound is the rhythmic beep of the monitors. Opal stares at my outstretched hand.

Slowly, she loosens her grip on the plushie. Her trembling fingers reach out and wrap around mine.

"Ready to go, Opal?" I ask, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze.

For a second she just stares at our joined hands. Then she nods, deliberately, and pulls the plushie tighter against her chest with her free hand, holding it like a shield against everything outside.

Erika steps forward to Opal's other side, and together we peel the blankets back.

Seeing Opal out from under the covers is worse than I expected. Her legs are heartbreakingly thin. Erika kneels, her movements tender, and guides Opal's small feet into a pair of soft padded grey Rhodes Island slippers — the same kind she put in front of my own freezing toes nine months ago.

Opal shifts her weight forward and takes a tentative, wobbly step away from the mattress, and her legs betray her. Her knees buckle under the strain and she pitches forward.

"Careful!" Erika gasps, her hands darting out.

But I'm already moving.

I drop my Arts Unit and ignore the clatter it makes against the floor, step into her path, and throw my arms around her torso. Her weight against me is nothing at all.

"I've got you," I say, adjusting my hold to support her shoulders, careful not to brush the jagged black crystals piercing the skin near her collarbone. I hold her steady and let her rest her head against my dark grey jacket. "Take it slowly. There's no rush."

Erika scoops up my staff and hovers at our side, a watchful shadow. Together we cross the threshold of the high-security quarantine ward, and the heavy doors hiss shut behind us. I adjust my grip, letting Opal lean her weight on my jacket while my other hand stays wrapped firmly around hers.

As we step into the metallic arteries, someone new prickles at the edge of my senses. Standing a few paces away is a tiny Vulpo.

She wears a short, crisp white coat with the Rhodes Island Medic symbol on it, and her face is set flat and stern — professional to the point of being a wall.

The moment my empathy brushes against her, she comes through as unsweetened dark chocolate and black coffee. Bitter, and grounded. The taste of exhausted competence.

I look up at my caretaker. "Erika," I whisper, low enough not to startle Opal. "Who is that?"

"Oh, that's Sussurro," Erika says softly, and gives her a respectful, professional nod.

Sussurro meets the look and nods back. Her expression doesn't soften in the slightest, but something passes between the two of them anyway. An acknowledgment, Medic to Medic.

My mind races. Miss Sussurro. This is the Medic who put Opal under during the Catastrophe, so the storm couldn't reach her.

I stare at her frame. She's tiny. "Wait?" I blurt out, looking back at Erika with my eyes blown wide. "Miss Sussurro is a child like me?"

Erika lets out a bright laugh that echoes down the corridor, and rubs the space right behind my pointed ear.

"No, Lethe," she chuckles, her features crinkling. "She's older than me."

I look back at Miss Sussurro and give her a tiny, deeply respectful bow, making a mental note never to treat her like a peer.

She gives one last crisp nod and turns on her heel, her white coat disappearing around the bend. The bitter taste goes with her.

We resume the slow, careful march. Every step is an effort for Opal, her padded slippers shuffling against the flooring. I keep my grip firm on her hand while Erika's palm rests securely against her back.

"Almost there, Opal," I encourage her.

She doesn't speak, but her knuckles, white around the brown Amiya plushie, loosen a fraction.

The blast doors of the Convalescent Garden stand at the end of the hallway, just another wall of metal. But as we come into the sensor's range the pneumatic locks disengage with a clank, and the plates hiss apart.

The sterility of the medical wing is washed straight out of the air. A humid wave of warmth spills into the cold corridor and wraps around us like a blanket, carrying damp soil, crushed leaves, and the sweetness of blooming flora.

Opal gasps.

For the first time since I saw her writhing in the blood-stained triage bay, her eyes go wide with something that isn't fear. It's wonder.

She stops dead in her tracks, staring up at the towering canopy and the green vines cascading off the ceiling beams.

Deep in the foliage, Miss Lena and Podenco turn to look at us.

Miss Lena sets down her data slate, and her features soften into a smile welcoming enough to hurt. Beside her, Podenco's ears perk up and her tail gives one deliberate wag behind her apron, but she holds the rest of her energy in and stays perfectly still.

"Welcome to the Convalescent Garden, Opal," Miss Lena murmurs, her voice floating over the rustle of the leaves.

I guide Opal down the winding path, through the hanging ivy and the ferns, to one of the secluded seating areas, and help her sit on the curved golden-brown bench. The polished wood is warm. Opal pulls her knees up slightly, curling around her plushie, and simply watches the canopy above.

With Opal settled, I turn to Podenco, who has stepped out from behind her flowerbeds.

"Where is the party, Podenco?" I ask, demanding and expectant.

Podenco lets out a quiet, exaggerated sigh, her ears drooping playfully. "I swear you're the only one who's still hung up on that, Lethe."

I puff out my cheeks. "You promised, all the way back during Tkaronto," I insist, crossing my arms. "There's absolutely no way I'm letting you off on that. We survived the thunderstorm. I want my tea."

Behind me Erika lets out a bright, ringing laugh that carries over the rustle of the greenhouse leaves, and Miss Lena joins in with a softer one.

I glance down at Opal. The overlapping laughter seems to work as a shield for her. Her eyes dart between us, watching our lighthearted bickering with a quiet curiosity.

"Not funny," I protest, keeping my cheeks puffed, though the corners of my mouth are trying hard to give me away.

"Now, now, Lethe," Miss Lena murmurs, crossing the smooth floor tiles to rest a warm hand on my shoulder. The touch is an anchor. "Lisa will be here soon. We can start then."

"Opal! Lethe! Podenco! Miss Lena! Miss Erika!"

The bright, chiming voice echoes through the Convalescent Garden before the doors have finished sliding shut. I don't need to turn around to know Lisa has arrived. The wave of her hits the back of my tongue an instant before I see her.

Lisa bounds down the winding path, her tails swishing behind her in a blur. Clutched in her arms is a large, brightly colored tote bag, bulging with rectangular cardboard boxes.

She skids to a halt right in front of our bench, her eyes shining as she looks at Opal, then at me.

"I brought them from the dormitories!" Lisa announces proudly, hoisting the bag up to show off her haul.

I look at the colorful illustrated boxes peeking out of it, and tilt my head.

"What are those?" I ask.

The joyful energy in the garden stalls. Everyone pauses.

"They're board games, Lethe!" Lisa declares, her smile coming back in full force as she pulls one of the boxes out. "They're really fun puzzles and stories we play together with pieces and cards. We can play them with Opal!"

I look down at Opal. She's watching the exchange quietly, her chin still resting on the head of her plushie, but her eyes are fixed on the colorful box in Lisa's hands, and something tentative is breaking through.

"Board games?" I repeat. "But… I don't know the rules. What if I do it wrong?"

"We'll teach you together, Lethe!" Lisa promises, stepping closer to the bench and setting the boxes down on the polished wood. "It's super easy!"

"Speak for yourself, Lisa." Podenco rests her hands on her hips.

"I'm not planning to show mercy just because you don't know how to play, Lethe," she teases, pointing a playful finger at me. "If we're playing Pioneers of Columbia, I'm buying all the properties first."

I blink, taken aback, and then a relaxed smile breaks across my face. I puff my cheeks out and fix her with a defiant glare.

"You can try, Podenco," I shoot back, my tail giving a challenging swish behind my jacket. "But I learn very fast!"

Miss Lena and Erika share a warm, quiet laugh.

"Come join us, Opal!" Podenco chirps, stepping forward.

She doesn't push into Opal's space. She just offers her hand, palm turned upward, an open invitation.

Opal goes still. Her ears twitch nervously and she pulls the brown plushie tighter under her chin.

Slowly her focus moves off Podenco. She looks at me, and then past me at Erika standing just behind my shoulder.

I don't hesitate. I meet the uncertainty and give her a slow, reassuring nod.

Opal takes a small, shaky breath. Her fingers uncurl from the plushie just enough to reach out, and she places her hand in Podenco's palm.

Podenco doesn't pull or rush her. She matches Opal's shuffling pace and guides her toward the polished table, where Lisa is already organizing a chaotic pile of cards and plastic pieces.

"We'll go prepare the cookies and tea," Miss Lena says, and gestures for Erika to follow her toward the prep counter nestled deep in the garden.

Erika pauses a second, sweeping over the four of us gathered around the table.

"Don't destroy the garden, you four," she teases, a fond smile breaking across her face.

"We won't. Promise!" I call back.

I slide onto the chair right next to Opal.

Lisa is already in her element, dealing out colorful paper currency with practiced efficiency.

"Okay, so!" she announces, pointing at the sprawling board and its towering Columbian skyline. "The goal is to buy as many properties as you can, and if someone lands on your property they have to pay you rent! And if you get all the properties of one color, you can build little houses!"

Opal watches the rapid-fire explanation with wide, overwhelmed eyes, but she doesn't shrink away. She reaches out with her free hand and touches her playing piece, a tiny plastic race car.

"I'm going to buy the entire financial district," Podenco declares, crossing her arms with a confident grin. "Just you wait, Lethe. I'm going to bankrupt you before the tea even finishes steeping."

I puff out my cheeks and lean over the board. "I'd like to see you try, Podenco," I challenge back, picking up a pair of plastic dice, and nudge Opal's shoulder with my own. "We're going to team up and buy everything before she can, right, Opal?"

Opal looks down at the colorful paper money Lisa has placed in front of her. Her grip on the plushie relaxes a little more. The corners of her mouth twitch up into the faintest, most fragile ghost of a smile.

"Okay," Opal whispers.

"No fair…" I groan, letting my head drop heavily.

I press my cheeks flat against the table, my lopsided horns pointing across the board at Podenco like a pair of defeated spears, and stare miserably at the paper money and my little plastic train car. Whatever I roll next, I'm hopelessly bankrupt.

"Now, now, Lethe. Submit to my real estate empire," Podenco teases.

She leans back in her chair and lifts her teacup with exaggerated, aristocratic flair, taking a deliberate sip with absolute smug satisfaction.

I let out a pathetic, muffled whine against the table.

A few paces away, near a large fern, Erika and Miss Lena have their heads together. Their voices drift over the rustling of the Convalescent Garden in a quiet, serious weave of medical jargon. I catch fragments: suppressant half-lives, localized crystallization rates.

"We will win."

The voice is very quiet, and it goes through the noise of the greenhouse like a thunderclap.

"Next time."

I come straight up off the table, my spine snapping rigid, and the movement rattles the board and sends a few plastic houses skittering across the cardboard districts.

I stare at the seat beside me.

Opal is holding one of Miss Lena's rustic oat and berry cookies.

I watch, mesmerized, as she takes a slow, deliberate bite. She munches quietly, crumbs dropping onto the wood.

I reach out with my senses and brush gently against her. The freezing void that swallowed her mind is still there at the edges. But right now, in this exact moment, there's a small spark of warmth pushing back against the cold. It tastes like diced strawberries, with a little warm milk underneath.

I look at Podenco, whose smugness has melted into wide-eyed, silent awe. Across the table Lisa's tails have fluffed up to twice their size.

I turn back to Opal, and a massive smile breaks across my face.

"Yeah," I say, bumping my shoulder against hers. "Next time, Opal. We're going to buy the whole city."

Despite my most desperate rolls of the plastic dice and Opal's quiet, steadfast support, the financial district falls into Podenco's hands. We don't manage to win in the end. I am officially, undeniably bankrupt.

"Lunch time, everyone," Miss Lena announces, and our fierce corporate warfare comes to an end.

Erika steps up to our table. "Let's go, Opal," she says, soft and encouraging, extending a hand and guiding her to her feet. Opal tucks the plushie under one arm and willingly lets Erika take the other, leaning a little into her side.

As they begin to turn away, Erika pauses and looks back at me. "I'll catch you in the cafeteria for dinner, Lethe," she says.

I give her a bright, obedient smile and smooth down the fabric of my pleated skirt. "Okay, Erika. I'll be good."

As the two of them make their slow, careful way toward the doors of the garden, we all raise our hands to wave them off.

"It was fun today, Opal!" Lisa cheers, leaning over the edge of the table.

Opal looks back over her shoulder. Very slowly, she gives a tiny nod.

Opal is truly coming back to us.

The humid air of the Convalescent Garden is a comfortable weight against my skin. I help Miss Lena gather up the empty teacups and sweep the stray crumbs of baked grain and dried berries off the floor.

"Want to have lunch together, Lethe?" Lisa asks.

Before I can nod and say yes, a sharp chime cuts through the rustle of the leaves and my slate vibrates inside my crossbody bag.

I pull the chassis out and tap the glass screen. A direct message banner drops down.

[Amiya]: Rosmontis and I are free for lunch, if you can join us that would be great! We will be at upper deck 2 cafeteria.

I stare at the glowing text. A thrill goes through my chest and a pang of guilt follows it immediately. I look up at Lisa with the slate in my hands and my tail gone limp.

"Sorry…" I murmur. "Amiya says she's free."

Lisa's tails pause mid-wag. Before the disappointment can settle, Podenco steps in.

"That's alright," she says brightly, brushing the stray crumbs off her apron. "You barely get to hang out with her, and you see us daily."

Lisa bounces straight back. "Podenco's right! Go, Lethe! Amiya works so hard, it'll be good for her to take a break with you."

I give them a firm, grateful nod and reach down to pick up my Arts Unit. "I'll take my leave," I say with a bright smile. "See you all tomorrow."

Leaving the earthy warmth of the Convalescent Garden, I step back into the chaotic arteries of the landship and weave toward the central elevators, swiping my ID card against the terminal.

Upper Deck 2.

When the doors slide open I step out into a cafeteria that is nothing like the deafening main dining hall on the lower levels. This one is smaller — refined, hushed. The lighting is a crisp cool white that bounces off the polished tables. It's built so department heads and elite operatives can eat without being swallowed by a thousand logistics Operators.

I scan the room. It doesn't take long to find them.

At a quiet table near one of the large observation windows is Amiya. Beside her, Rosmontis sits perfectly still.

I adjust my jacket and walk over to my friends.

"Amiya. Rosmontis," I say, stopping at the edge of their table.

I look past them at the observation window. Framed against the reinforced glass the two of them look very small. Outside, rolling green hills run out to the horizon under a clear, unblemished sky. Erika told me this morning that the landship is hovering somewhere around the borders of Great Yan.

"Lethe! Glad you can join us," Amiya beams, shifting to make room for me.

"Lethe," Rosmontis echoes quietly, with a small, deliberate nod.

I pull out an empty chair and sit down, my tail pooling lazily on the ground.

"We haven't gotten any food yet," Amiya says, her eyes going to the hot plates and serving stations along the far wall. She looks back at us, relaxed. "What are you guys feeling today?"

I tilt my head at the hills rolling past the glass. "Since we're near… Yan. What is Yan food?" I ask.

Amiya taps her chin, scanning the menu above the serving stations. "Hmmm. I think they're serving Yanese small dishes and fried rice," she says, turning back to me and Rosmontis. "Want to try?"

"I don't know what those things are," I admit, and the flush warming my cheeks isn't performed. I look up at her and offer a bright, eager smile. "But sure!"

Rosmontis's ears twitch. She gives another slow, silent nod of agreement.

"Then it's decided." Amiya pushes her chair back and stands up. "Let's go see what the Yan culinary team has prepared for us."

At the serving stations the savory smell of the hot plates gives way to steamed dough and sugar. Behind the glass partitions, stacks of small woven bamboo baskets let off gentle plumes of steam, and inside them sit rows of smooth, colorful buns.

Amiya leans over the glass, reading the digital labels with their crisp Yanese script and standard Victorian translations.

"Anything you prefer?" Amiya asks, looking back at us with an easy smile.

"Sweet ones!" I answer.

The words are out before I can process them.

Beside me, Rosmontis turns her head slowly.

"Lethe really has a sweet tooth," she observes. Her voice is flat, a simple statement of fact, but what comes off her is the faintest hint of pineapple soft serve.

Amusement.

Heat floods my cheeks. I duck my head and let my hair fall forward to hide it, holding onto the edge of my tray.

"They just taste better," I mumble defensively.

Amiya giggles.

"Sweet it is, then," she says cheerfully, pointing at a stack of steaming baskets near the end of the line. "Those ones are sweet custard buns, and the ones next to them are filled with red bean paste."

"Na… Nai… Wong… Baa… Bao… is this how you say it?" I trace the Victorian script for the Yanese pronunciation.

"I'm not too sure either, Lethe. But I think that's about right? We could always ask Blaze," Amiya replies, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

We load our trays with a small mountain of the steamed treats, alongside a few savory plates so Erika won't reprimand me later for skipping proper nutrition. At the checkout terminal Amiya steps ahead and taps her ID card against the scanner, covering the whole meal before I can reach into my bag for my own.

We make our way back to the quiet table by the observation window. The hills of Yan blur past the glass as we settle into our seats.

I reach eagerly for one of the sweet custard buns. The white dough is soft and pillowy and warm in my hands. I grip the edges and tear it in half.

A thick golden semi-solid comes rushing out of the center, spills over the torn edges of the dough, and lands on my thumb and index finger. It isn't warm. It's molten.

"Hot!" I yelp.

I drop the bun onto my plate with a clatter and shake my hands in the air to cool my stinging fingers. My tail thrashes under the table, taking whatever dignity I had left in front of the company's elites with it.

Amiya and Rosmontis both smile.

This is the best lunch I could have asked for.