THE TRANSITION from the bunker's sheltered warmth to the Alpine morning was jarring. The air was a crystalline, biting blue that seemed to pierce straight through Mailah's high-necked sweater. Despite the heavy psychic weight of the night before, their departure was strangely quiet. No shadow-blades fell from the sky; no hissing guards blocked the gravel path.
Carson moved with a frantic efficiency, tossing bags into a dusty, nondescript SUV they had swapped for under a camouflage tarp.
Lucson stood by the passenger door, his silver eyes scanning the tree line not for physical threats, but for the invisible ripples in the veil.
"We're clear," Lucson said, though his voice lacked any sense of relief. "But don't mistake silence for safety. The magnetite hid us, but the moment we crest this ridge, our signatures will hit the ley lines like blood in water. We can't stay undetected for long, even if we keep off the main roads."
