We had been in the city for a while.
Long enough for the streets to feel familiar.
Not long enough for it to feel like mine.
I missed the island.
The hotel was comfortable—too comfortable. Clean sheets, polished floors, quiet hallways that swallowed sound before it could settle.
But it wasn't the same.
Comfort had a shape.
And it wasn't this.
"Well, we are just killing time for something," Miss Alvie had said the first day I asked.
Now—
"We're going to the liaison building. Wear your uniform."
She stepped out of the bathroom, drying her hands with a towel, the fabric dragging softly across her fingers.
I rolled across the bed, stretching, letting the last of sleep slip off in pieces.
The water ran cold.
"Ah—"
It hit sharp.
No warning.
Ran down my back, gathered at my spine, pulled the rest of me awake with it.
Steam never formed.
The air stayed cool.
The soap carried a soft scent—milk, honey… and something faint beneath it.
Something I couldn't place.
It stayed on my skin even after I rinsed.
I stayed under longer than I needed.
Then stepped out.
She was already seated when I returned.
Back straight.
Legs crossed.
Waiting.
I dressed without speaking.
Uniform.
Hair pulled back.
A few strands slipping loose near my ear.
"I wonder what's for breakfast," I thought, fastening my boots, fingers tightening the last strap.
"Good. You're done," she said.
I stepped off the bed.
"Here. Wear this."
A small bottle.
Glass, cool in my hand.
I applied it without asking.
Roses.
Fresh.
Damp—like petals just brushed with water.
I set it down.
Stood.
"Let's go."
The lobby was quiet.
Light pooled low against the walls, dulled by the early sun pressing through the windows.
Outside—
the city was already awake.
We stepped into the carriage.
"We'll have breakfast at the cafeteria," she said.
I nodded.
Hooves struck stone.
Steady.
Measured.
The carriage swayed lightly beneath us.
Voices drifted past—vendors calling, doors opening, the low hum of movement building into something constant.
The air was warm.
The Concord building stood ahead.
Muted.
Not imposing.
Just… present.
Inside, everything tightened.
Quieter.
Structured.
Footsteps softened against the floor.
"We will be assisting with an assessment today," she said.
I didn't ask anything.
Breakfast was simple.
I handed her coffee, the cup warm against my palm before it left my hand.
Took bread for myself.
Salted butter spread thin, the knife dragging softly against the surface.
Around us—black and white uniforms.
Controlled.
Uniform.
I glanced down at mine.
Different.
"I must really stand out."
"Oh well."
I took a bite.
Soft.
Sweet.
Tea followed.
Warmth settling slower than it should have.
Second floor.
Closed doors.
Footsteps echoing just enough to remind me I was there.
Inside—
Aries Alpha.
Miss Rho.
And a man I didn't recognize.
He stood apart.
Straight.
Still.
Glasses catching the light as he adjusted them once.
"Good morning, Miss Alvie. CL-59," Alpha said.
I stood beside her.
They sat.
It felt like a hearing.
"Ah…"
The scent shifted.
The perfume.
Lemon.
Sharp.
Cutting through the roses.
Clean.
Precise.
I lowered my gaze—
The door opened.
I looked up.
And froze.
"Victoria—"
The name left me before I could stop it.
She stood there.
White and black uniform.
Still.
Wrong.
She jerked slightly.
But didn't speak.
Something moved.
Not seen.
Felt.
A flicker.
A displacement—
Then nothing.
Just a thin rush of air across my skin.
My breath caught.
Miss Alvie hadn't given me my weapons.
I stood there—
empty.
"Miss Victoria, I understand you would be upset, and you have every right," Miss Rho said, voice steady. "But can you calm yourself?"
No one else moved.
Not even a shift.
Not even a glance.
My heartbeat climbed.
Loud.
Pressing against my ears.
My chest tightened.
Air came shallow.
Fast.
Not enough.
Did she just try to kill me?
I hadn't seen anything.
Only felt it.
"Miss Victoria, according to the Sisyphus Protocol, you may decide if CL-59 is better off dead," the man said, writing without looking up, pen moving in short, even strokes.
Victoria's gaze shifted.
To him.
Then—
to Miss Alvie.
Mine followed.
"But we can discuss that later," he continued. "We are here for your assessment."
"Asking how you are feeling would be unnecessary," Alpha added. "You have already demonstrated it. Am I correct?"
Miss Rho said nothing.
Victoria exhaled.
Sat.
The chair gave a small sound beneath her.
I remained standing.
Barely.
Their voices blurred.
Words passed.
None stayed.
"Ursa Minor, huh."
Miss Alvie's voice cut through.
Clean.
Sharp.
I blinked.
Refocused.
I was told to wait outside.
I didn't hesitate.
The hallway felt colder.
I sat.
Exhaled.
Closed my eyes.
"I almost died."
The thought came clean.
Flat.
"I wouldn't have even known how."
A breath slipped out.
Not quite a laugh.
"Just another report."
"How are you?"
I opened my eyes.
Miss Alvie stood there.
I got to my feet.
"Fine, Ma—"
I stopped.
She wasn't alone.
Miss Rho.
Victoria.
Miss Alvie smiled.
Miss Rho held a faint frown.
Victoria—
something else.
Layered.
Unreadable.
"It's a pleasure to meet you… again," she said.
She smiled.
We returned to the carriage.
Victoria came with us.
I didn't ask why.
The motion settled in.
Hooves.
Stone.
A steady sway.
The scent shifted again.
Deeper now.
Heavier.
Unfamiliar.
"Try not to stare out the window," Victoria said.
She didn't turn from it.
"Myrrh is for the corpse and the tomb," Miss Alvie said, sketching, pencil moving in quiet strokes. "Frankincense is for worship and the heavens."
Her hand didn't pause.
"Do you have an idea what the base note was?"
"No."
"I don't."
The sun sat high now.
Bright.
Unforgiving.
I wasn't hungry.
"So, where are we going?" Victoria asked.
"My place," Miss Alvie replied. "I am your mentor."
A pause.
"And more."
"Ah…"
The word slipped out before I could stop it.
I leaned back slightly.
There was nowhere comfortable to sit.
Between them—
the air felt different.
Not tense.
Not calm.
Unresolved.