Three days into the three-week preparation window, the coastal zone briefing had taken up permanent, oppressive residence inside Villa 4. It haunted the breakfast table. It glowed steadily on their wristbands in the quiet hours of the library. It sat beside their plates at dinner. The impending five-day deployment felt incredibly real, dictating the underlying tension in every room.
Over dinner, Vane casually mentioned the western perimeter.
He didn't make a grand production out of it. He just noted that he had spent three years living on the floating island and had never actually walked out to see the western edge. He intended to go before they shipped out to the coast.
Four distinct voices offered some immediate variation of an agreement to accompany him at the exact same time.
The kitchen plunged into a sudden, suffocating silence.
