The Argent pin felt strange in Celeste's palm.
It was heavier than it looked. Silver and aegis blue, polished to a mirror shine, the stylized eagle catching the light from the window. She had worn it every day since her acceptance into the program. It had been her entire identity. Her purpose. Her cage.
She set it on the desk, next to the datapad where she had typed her final message.
To Julian: I hope the fake glory keeps you warm at night. It cost you everything else.
Not eloquent. Not poetic. But honest.
That was more than Julian deserved.
"Ready?" Noah appeared in the doorway, a box balanced on each hip. Monica stood behind her, clutching her own small bag of belongings, still pale but no longer crying.
Celeste looked around the room one last time. The pristine sheets. The empty walls. The sterile perfection of a life she had never chosen.
"Yes," she said. "I think I am."
The walk through the Argent dormitory felt longer than it should have.
