▪︎ Chapter 141 ▪︎ “Let’s go say hello.”

Lavinia stood before the bathroom mirror, looking at herself.

Golden hair framed her dark face, falling over her shoulders in soft waves. Her pointed ears emerged from beneath the pale strands, and her crimson eyes stared back at her without the slightest trace of a pupil.

The black Gothic dress she wore was immaculate, as it always was, and the vampire reflected in the glass was extraordinarily beautiful.

She looked perfectly composed, which was probably the most irritating part.

Lavinia closed her eyes, drew a long breath, and sighed. She would have to go outside soon. 

More than a hundred vampires had already gathered around the hotel, and their numbers continued to increase. 

They had come because they felt her presence within the Blood Sea, because she had reached out to them, and because she represented something they had been searching for.

She couldn't very well invite them all to Oakridge and then spend the evening hiding in her bathroom.

Unfortunately, that meant she would have to behave like a Princess, and she wasn't particularly certain she deserved to.

Killing Ethan had been wrong.

There wasn't a justification she could offer that would change that. 

He had been an irritating, self-important man who seemed determined to make vampires responsible for every misfortune he encountered, but he hadn't possessed the means to hurt her.

She could have walked away. She could have returned to her room, ignored whatever nonsense he continued shouting into his phone, and allowed Violetta's efforts to proceed without interruption.

Instead, she had killed him.

Publicly.

In front of however many people had been watching his livestream.

Lavinia opened her eyes slightly, studying the reflection of her expression. She didn't look especially remorseful, and that troubled her more than she expected.

She understood that killing a human was wrong. 

She understood that Ethan had been a person, with his own life, his own ambitions, and presumably people who cared about him. 

She understood that Violetta would now have to deal with the consequences of something she hadn't chosen.

Yet understanding those things hadn't produced much sorrow.

Disappointment, certainly.

She was disappointed in her self-control. Disappointed that she had undermined Violetta's efforts. 

Disappointed that, after everything she'd experienced, she had still allowed an obnoxious man with a phone to provoke her into doing something irreversible.

But grief?

Not particularly.

Ethan had wanted to be famous.

Well, now he was.

He had been killed during a livestream, before the eyes of the world, by one of the very monsters he'd spent so much time condemning.

Lavinia snorted.

"Congratulations," she murmured to the empty bathroom. "You got what you wanted."

Her reflection offered no reply.

She leaned forward slightly, resting her hands against the edge of the sink. The most infuriating part was that Ethan had believed himself safe. 

He had approached vampires, accused them of terrible things, and encouraged other humans to regard them as monsters, all while confidently assuming those same vampires wouldn't retaliate.

He had depended upon their restraint while telling the world they possessed none.

And the moment Lavinia had lost that restraint, he had finally acquired the evidence he'd spent so long searching for.

A monster had killed him.

He'd been right.

Or at least, that was how people would remember it.

Lavinia looked into her own empty crimson eyes.

"Who would've thought," she said softly, "I'd become someone like this?"

She tried to imagine explaining the change to someone who had known her before the First Divergence. 

What had happened to her? When had she become capable of killing a person without feeling particularly distressed afterward?

She couldn't have answered.

It wasn't as though she had suddenly developed an appetite for human suffering. 

She didn't enjoy killing humans, and she certainly didn't intend to make a habit of it. 

She still found ordinary human concerns understandable, and she could remember perfectly well what it had been like to be vulnerable.

But her priorities had changed.

That much was undeniable.

The vampires she loved came first.

Valerie. Gwendolyn. Adelaide. Rosaline. Violetta. All the others who had become part of her life.

And now, beyond those familiar faces, there were countless vampires she had never met, their presences scattered throughout the Blood Sea like distant stars.

They were hers to protect.

Not because they belonged to her, but because she couldn't bear the thought of abandoning them.

Lavinia straightened.

She hadn't needed to kill Ethan to demonstrate that. She knew it. 

A few carefully chosen words, a public declaration, or even a display of her abilities would have made her position clear. 

She could have threatened him without following through. She could have done any number of things that didn't end with a human corpse lying in a hotel corridor.

They simply would have required more patience.

And perhaps, by the time she'd finished trying to convince everyone that she was serious, the other Princesses would have already gathered most of the vampires who were searching for someone dependable.

Lavinia sighed again.

She wasn't going to blame the Crimson Princess for her decision.

The other Royal Vampire had certainly influenced the urgency she felt. 

Even before the red-haired Princess had called the species toward herself, Lavinia had sensed her wild excitement and the terrible amusement accompanying whatever she was doing.

But the Crimson Princess hadn't reached through the Blood Sea and forced Lavinia to kill Ethan.

Lavinia had made that decision herself.

She could have killed him instantly, too. A broken neck, a blow to the head, any number of effortless movements would have ended his life before he understood what was happening.

Instead, she had made a spectacle of it.

She didn't particularly like what that said about her.

Her gaze drifted toward the bathroom door. Beyond it, she could feel Valerie's familiar presence, close enough that the affection flowing between them through the Blood Sea was almost indistinguishable from the ordinary comfort Lavinia experienced whenever the orange haired vampire was nearby.

Farther away were the others.

And farther still, six immense Singularities.

The other Princesses.

Most felt reasonably stable. 

One was calm, another carried an almost reassuring certainty, and one seemed so relaxed that Lavinia occasionally wondered whether she was paying attention to anything at all. 

Another was quiet and distant, though there was unmistakable warmth beneath that reserve.

Then there was the strange, overwhelmingly affectionate presence that seemed determined to embrace everything it encountered.

Lavinia wasn't entirely sure what to make of that one.

It felt almost sticky.

Not unpleasant, exactly.

Just extraordinarily difficult to ignore.

And finally, there was the Crimson Princess.

Lavinia could still feel her amusement.

"That one's going to be trouble," she muttered.

The thought of meeting the red-haired Princess in person made her distinctly uneasy.

Then again, they were all vampires.

Whatever differences existed between them, Lavinia couldn't imagine the other Princesses deliberately turning against their own kind.

Vampires generally got along remarkably well, and the Blood Sea only made that natural affection more apparent.

She wasn't particularly concerned about schemes or struggles for supremacy. If anything, she was looking forward to meeting them.

Six other women who understood what she had become.

Six others who possessed the same immense connection to their species.

It would be nice not to be the only one.

Lavinia closed her eyes once more.

The vampires gathering outside were impossible to overlook now. Some stood on rooftops. 

Others wandered through the streets, their presence drawing anxious attention from the humans who happened to be outside. 

Still more circled above Oakridge, their enormous wings carrying them effortlessly through the night.

Their numbers had passed one hundred.

Considering the size of the Unified Sovereignties and the speed at which vampires could travel, Lavinia wasn't especially surprised. 

The Diverged Lands had also made movement across enormous distances much easier, particularly now that the dimmed sunlight over those regions allowed vampires to travel during the day.

What did surprise her was something else.

The other Singularities were moving.

Not dramatically, and not all at the same speed, but she could feel the distance between them gradually diminishing.

They were approaching.

Lavinia opened her eyes.

"Oh, wonderful."

She stared at her reflection for another moment, then shook her head.

"Well, I suppose I should go meet everyone before they decide I'm hiding."

She left the bathroom.

Valerie was waiting nearby, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. 

Her orange hair fell around her shoulders, and her crimson eyes immediately settled on Lavinia.

She was smiling.

It looked a little forced.

"So," Valerie began lightly, "why are there so many vampires outside?"

Lavinia smiled.

"Because they're all our friends."

"That's not an answer."

"It's a very good answer."

Valerie narrowed her eyes.

Lavinia stepped closer, rose slightly onto her toes, and kissed her forehead.

"They're vampires, Valerie. You don't need to be nervous."

Valerie snorted.

"Nervous? Me?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I'm not nervous at all."

"Of course not."

"I'm worried you're going to embarrass yourself."

Lavinia laughed.

"That's much more believable."

Valerie pushed away from the wall and followed her toward the door.

"Someone has to make sure you don't give a terrible speech."

"Who said anything about a speech?"

"You're a Princess, Lavinia. There are over a hundred vampires waiting outside to meet you."

"Maybe they just want to say hello."

"And maybe they'll all politely go home afterward."

Lavinia considered that.

"Wouldn't that be nice?"

Valerie gave her a flat look.

They took the stairs downstairs, with Valerie continuing to offer increasingly unhelpful suggestions about how Lavinia should conduct herself.

By the time they reached the lobby, Lavinia was smiling more naturally.

Violetta, Adelaide, Rosaline, and Gwendolyn were waiting near the entrance.

Gwendolyn immediately pointed toward the glass doors.

"Lavinia! Look!"

Four vampires stood outside, peering curiously into the lobby. The moment they spotted the familiar group, their expressions brightened.

One waved enthusiastically.

Another began giggling, apparently delighted to have found the Golden Princess at last.

Lavinia waved back.

"Well, they're friendly."

Rosaline smiled.

"Did you expect otherwise?"

"No. But it's nice to have confirmation."

Adelaide glanced toward the windows, where additional crimson-eyed figures could be seen gathering beyond the entrance.

"There's an awful lot of them."

"And more coming," Violetta observed.

Her tone was measured.

Lavinia glanced toward her.

Violetta returned the look, then sighed quietly and shook her head.

She didn't say anything.

Lavinia knew why.

There would be time to discuss Ethan, the livestream, and the consequences of what she'd done. Violetta wasn't going to pretend none of it had happened.

But the vampires outside hadn't come to hear an argument.

They had come to meet their Princess.

Lavinia smiled at the four women waiting beyond the doors.

"Come on," she said. "Let's go say hello."

She walked toward the entrance, with the others following close behind.

───

Melisande sat across from Beatrix, typing steadily on her laptop.

The room was quiet except for the occasional clicking of keys and the faint sounds of activity elsewhere in the Institute.

Beatrix occupied the opposite chair, one leg crossed over the other, her short blue hair falling around her face as she scrolled through Melisande's phone.

Her wrists had healed completely. There wasn't even a trace of the damage left by the silver restraints.

Melisande found that remarkable, although she had become accustomed to witnessing the extraordinary regenerative capabilities of vampires.

What she hadn't become accustomed to was the casual manner in which the Institute's researchers discussed inflicting those injuries.

Beatrix glanced up from the borrowed phone.

"Did they really bring in a witch?"

Melisande continued typing.

"Apparently."

"An actual witch?"

"That does tend to be what the word means."

Beatrix gave her an unimpressed look.

Melisande glanced up and smiled faintly.

"Yes. An actual witch."

Beatrix returned her attention to the screen.

She had initially been wary of the woman sitting across from her. Learning that the Institute's Director was secretly a witch hadn't immediately made her feel safer.

But Melisande had demonstrated, repeatedly, that she meant Beatrix no harm.

She could have left her restrained.

She could have allowed the experiments to continue without interference.

Instead, she'd removed the silver shackles whenever circumstances permitted, delayed procedures, and repeatedly cited administrative requirements whenever researchers proposed more invasive tests.

It hadn't stopped everything.

Beatrix still remembered the pain.

But it had kept the experiments from escalating as far as certain researchers clearly wanted.

And Beatrix understood enough about her own body to recognize that some injuries were considerably more dangerous to a witch than to a vampire.

"Can witches heal like us?" she asked.

Melisande shook her head.

"Not naturally."

She paused her typing.

"We can heal injuries through spells and rituals. Depending on the witch and the circumstances, the results can be quite impressive."

"But?"

"But if someone shoots me through the heart, I don't simply recover because I'm a witch."

Beatrix frowned.

"Really?"

"Really."

Melisande tilted her head.

"A fatal injury for a human is generally fatal for a witch as well. For now, at least."

"For now?"

"Witchcraft is still developing. I wouldn't presume to know everything we'll eventually become capable of."

Beatrix considered that.

Then she shrugged.

"Sounds inconvenient."

"It certainly can be."

Melisande returned to her laptop.

After a moment, she spoke again.

"Your species has made quite a mess of things."

Beatrix looked up sharply.

"My species?"

"Vampires."

Beatrix gestured around the room.

"Look where I am."

Melisande glanced toward the door.

"Yes. I suppose that's a fair response."

"I'm locked inside a government research facility, and people have been experimenting on me because they think I'm some kind of walking medical supply."

Beatrix crossed her arms.

"So forgive me if I'm not particularly interested in hearing how much trouble vampires have caused."

Melisande nodded.

"I wasn't assigning blame."

"Good."

"I was referring to the political consequences."

Beatrix snorted.

"Same difference, usually."

Melisande's fingers resumed moving across the keyboard.

"Until recently, the Unified Sovereignties managed to preserve a reasonable degree of stability. The government maintained its authority, the military remained organized, and most major cities continued functioning."

"Sounds lovely."

"Unfortunately, the food situation has become rather serious."

Beatrix looked at her.

"How serious?"

"Current reserves available for distribution may be exhausted within the week."

Beatrix blinked.

Then she shrugged.

"Well, that's unfortunate for humans."

Melisande glanced up.

"I suppose you don't need to worry about ordinary food anymore."

"Nope."

Beatrix smiled without much humor.

"I drink blood. Humans can keep their sandwiches."

A small smile appeared on Melisande's face.

"An enviable arrangement, under the circumstances."

"Not when the people supplying your blood want to chain you to a table."

"Fair."

Melisande finished typing a sentence before continuing.

"The larger problem is that the government has been directing considerable attention toward studying the new species instead of resolving its logistical difficulties."

Beatrix leaned back.

"Let me guess. Gideon?"

"The Vice President has been particularly enthusiastic about the research."

"Of course he has."

Melisande's expression remained composed.

"Food distribution, water supplies, transportation, and the restoration of damaged infrastructure all require immediate attention. Yet enormous resources have been allocated to investigating vampires, werewolves, witches, and elves."

"Because we're scary."

"Because certain people believe understanding how to control us is more important than ensuring their own citizens can eat."

Beatrix laughed sharply.

"That's stupid."

"It may prove to be."

Melisande looked toward the door.

"Although I wouldn't generalize humans too broadly. The people who are more concerned about their next meal than the existence of vampires will probably wish their leaders had made different choices."

Beatrix studied her.

"You really don't sound like you hate humans."

"I don't."

"Even after all this?"

Melisande considered the question.

"I dislike what certain humans are doing. That's different."

Beatrix made a doubtful noise.

Melisande didn't press the point.

Instead, she continued working.

After a while, Beatrix tilted her head.

"Couldn't you just make food?"

Melisande looked up.

"Excuse me?"

"You're a witch."

"Yes."

"Can't you wave your hand and make some bread appear?"

Melisande smiled.

"Not quite like that."

"But you can?"

"Certain forms of witchcraft can accelerate plant growth. Other spells can alter the properties of matter, and sufficiently sophisticated rituals may accomplish transformations that would seem impossible by ordinary means."

Beatrix brightened.

"So you could!"

"In principle."

"Then why not?"

Melisande rested her hands on the keyboard.

"Because producing enough food to sustain an entire country is rather different from producing a loaf of bread."

Beatrix looked mildly disappointed.

"Even with a bunch of witches?"

"Even with a bunch of witches. The scale would be extraordinary, and most witches are still learning what their abilities can accomplish."

Melisande paused.

"There's also the minor inconvenience of revealing that the Director of the Institute is a witch."

Beatrix snorted.

"Right."

"I imagine Gideon would respond poorly."

"He'd probably have you locked up beside me."

"Or killed."

Beatrix's expression darkened.

Melisande nodded.

"Exactly."

She returned to her work.

There were other reasons, of course.

Melisande knew perfectly well that she wasn't an ordinary witch.

Her understanding of witchcraft had developed with remarkable speed. 

Spells that required extensive experimentation from others seemed almost intuitive to her, and she possessed a breadth of knowledge she couldn't fully explain.

More strangely, she had never experienced anything resembling magical exhaustion.

No matter how complicated the spells became, no matter how much she attempted to accomplish, the power available to her seemed inexhaustible.

And there was the Weave.

That vast, extraordinary space she could feel beyond ordinary perception.

Within it, other presences existed.

Witches.

Some were distant and faint, but several possessed immense magical auras that seemed no less substantial than her own.

Melisande had wondered about them for some time.

She suspected they were important.

Very important.

But she hadn't yet found an opportunity to investigate.

Beatrix lowered the phone.

"You're making that face again."

Melisande blinked.

"What face?"

"The one where you're thinking about something weird."

Melisande smiled.

"I was considering a few possibilities."

"That's what I said."

"How observant."

Beatrix rolled her eyes.

Melisande typed one final line.

Then she pressed a key.

A small confirmation appeared on the screen.

She read it carefully.

Satisfied, she closed the window.

"Beatrix?"

"Hm?"

"Are you ready to leave?"

Beatrix looked up.

For several seconds, she didn't speak.

Then she frowned.

"What?"

"To leave."

"Leave where?"

"The Institute."

Beatrix stared at her.

"You're joking."

"No."

"Melisande."

"Yes?"

"If I break out of here, they're going to blame you."

"Probably."

"They'll know you removed my restraints."

"Possibly."

"They'll investigate everything you've done."

"Almost certainly."

Beatrix leaned forward.

"Then why are you asking me that?"

Melisande turned the laptop toward her.

The screen displayed a page containing files, reports, and internal documents.

Beatrix recognized several of the headings.

Her expression changed.

"What is that?"

"Recent research conducted by the Institute."

Melisande gestured toward the screen.

"Experimental records. Procedures. Internal correspondence. A selection of the more troubling authorizations."

Beatrix stared.

"You didn't."

"I did."

"You uploaded them?"

"Anonymously."

Beatrix looked between the screen and Melisande.

"To who?"

"Everyone."

Silence settled over the room.

Then Beatrix began laughing.

It wasn't a particularly cheerful laugh.

It was the sound of someone who had spent far too long being treated as helpless suddenly discovering that the people responsible might finally have something to fear.

"Oh, they're going to hate that."

"I imagine so."

"Humans are going to lose their minds."

"Some will."

Beatrix scrolled through the files.

There were photographs.

Medical records.

Descriptions of procedures performed on captive vampires.

References to werewolf subjects.

Reports concerning witches and elves.

Some of the material had been written with the sterile detachment of ordinary laboratory documentation. 

Other sections were considerably more disturbing, particularly where researchers had discussed the acceptable limits of pain, injury, and regenerative recovery.

Beatrix's smile disappeared.

"That's disgusting."

Melisande nodded.

"Yes."

"They actually wrote all this down?"

"Apparently."

Beatrix looked at her.

"Why release it now?"

"Because keeping it hidden would allow the same procedures to continue elsewhere."

Melisande folded her hands.

"Vampires, werewolves, witches, and elves are unlikely to appreciate discovering that their own kind have been subjected to involuntary experimentation."

"That's putting it mildly."

"And humans who object to such practices deserve to know what's being done in their name."

Beatrix studied her for a long moment.

"They'll suspect you."

"Yes."

"You know that?"

"Of course."

"And you don't care?"

Melisande smiled faintly.

"I've already decided not to remain here."

Beatrix frowned.

"Then why didn't you leave earlier?"

Melisande considered her answer.

"Because there were two reasons I maintained this position."

She glanced toward the laptop.

"The first was to help anyone unfortunate enough to be brought here."

Beatrix's expression softened almost imperceptibly.

"And the second?"

"To study my magic somewhere relatively safe."

Beatrix stared at her.

"This place?"

"Until recently, yes."

"You're weird."

"So I've been told."

Melisande rose from her chair.

She rested a finger against the laptop.

A faint cracking sound emerged from within the device.

Then sparks flashed beneath the keyboard.

The screen flickered once and went black.

A thin wisp of smoke rose from the casing.

Beatrix watched it.

"Was that necessary?"

"Probably not."

"Then why?"

Melisande looked at the ruined laptop.

"I didn't particularly want anyone recovering what remained on it."

"Couldn't you just smash it?"

"I could."

Beatrix gave her a look.

Melisande smiled.

"This was more convenient."

She adjusted her white blouse, then smoothed her long blue hair over one shoulder.

Her empty black eyes settled on Beatrix.

"Oh."

Beatrix blinked.

"What?"

"Our hair matches."

Beatrix stared at her.

Melisande looked genuinely pleased by the observation.

For a moment, Beatrix seemed unable to decide whether to laugh or complain.

Then she sighed.

"You're really something."

"So I've heard."

Beatrix stood and placed Melisande's phone on the desk.

The movement was silent, her vampire body requiring none of the effort a human would have needed.

She glanced toward the door.

"I'll go first."

Melisande tilted her head.

"Why?"

"Because you can still die if someone shoots you."

"That is true."

"And I can't."

"Not nearly as easily, certainly."

Beatrix crossed her arms.

"So stay behind me."

Melisande looked at her for a moment.

Then she nodded.

"Very well."

Beatrix approached the door and paused.

"How are we getting the others out?"

Melisande lifted a small device from the desk.

"I've already arranged that."

She pressed a command.

Elsewhere in the Institute, electronic locks began disengaging.

One after another, the cells holding the remaining subjects opened.

Beatrix heard the mechanisms.

Her pointed ears twitched.

Then she smiled.

"Oh."

Melisande slipped the device into her pocket.

"Shall we?"

Beatrix opened the door.

The corridor beyond was brightly lit and apparently empty.

She stepped outside first, her short blue hair shifting as she looked in both directions.

Melisande followed at a considerably more ordinary pace.

As they moved through the Institute, she found herself reflecting upon how strange her circumstances had become.

She had done quite a few things that offered her no obvious personal benefit.

She had protected Beatrix when allowing the experiments to continue would have made her position easier to maintain. 

She had obstructed researchers, falsified the apparent necessity of certain procedures, and now released information that would almost certainly destroy her professional standing.

She didn't regret any of it.

That was interesting.

She felt no particular hostility toward vampires, werewolves, or elves. If anything, she regarded them with curiosity and a degree of natural sympathy.

Humans, however, inspired a more complicated response.

Wariness.

Suspicion.

Not hatred, exactly.

She knew perfectly well that humans were capable of kindness, courage, and extraordinary generosity. 

She had witnessed those qualities herself, long before becoming a witch.

But she also knew how readily fear could be turned into justification.

And she suspected humans felt much the same wariness toward her.

Melisande couldn't entirely blame them.

The world had changed so suddenly that nobody had been given much opportunity to understand what was happening.

She simply wished they had chosen a better path.

Ahead of her, Beatrix stopped at an intersection.

"Someone's coming."

Melisande heard footsteps.

Two people.

Their conversation was indistinct at first, but the sound grew clearer as they approached.

Beatrix looked back.

Melisande nodded.

The vampire stepped into the adjoining corridor.

A moment later, two security personnel rounded the corner.

The first noticed Beatrix immediately, his eyes widening at the sight of a vampire wandering freely through the Institute. 

His hand moved toward his weapon, while the second guard stared at the unfamiliar blue-haired woman accompanying her.

"Stop! Neither of you is authorized to be here!"

Beatrix moved before either could draw.

She crossed the distance between them, seized their weapons, and crushed the metal beneath her fingers before tossing the ruined pieces aside. Both guards staggered backward, their expressions turning pale.

"Don't," Beatrix warned, smiling faintly. "I'd really rather not have to hurt anyone on my way out."

Melisande approached from behind her, her long blue hair shifting against her shoulders.

"Good evening," she greeted pleasantly.

The guards stared at her empty black eyes.

"A witch?" one whispered.

"Yes," Melisande replied. "Though I would appreciate it if we didn't make a particularly large fuss about that."

The other guard looked between the two women, apparently struggling to understand how an escaped vampire and an unidentified witch had managed to enter a restricted corridor.

Melisande gestured toward the wall.

"If you would both wait here until we've left, that would be very helpful."

Neither man appeared inclined to argue.

Beatrix glanced toward her as they continued down the corridor.

"You're awfully polite to people who'd shoot us if they had the chance."

Melisande smiled.

"Well, they haven't shot us yet."

"Because I broke their guns."

"Then your intervention was very effective."

They continued down the corridor.

Somewhere beyond the Institute, the files Melisande had uploaded sat quietly on publicly accessible servers.

For the moment, they were merely documents.

Experimental records, internal correspondence, photographs, and authorization forms, all waiting for someone to open them and recognize what they contained.

Melisande had no way of knowing who would discover them first, or how quickly the information would spread. Perhaps a journalist would notice. 

Perhaps an ordinary person would stumble upon the files and share them. 

Perhaps someone within the government would recognize the documents before anyone else had a chance to examine them.

Whatever happened, the information was no longer confined to the Institute.

That was enough for now.

Beatrix glanced toward Melisande as they approached another secured door.

"You're smiling."

Melisande touched her cheek.

"Am I?"

"A little."

"How curious."

Beatrix snorted.

"You're enjoying this."

Melisande considered the accusation before shaking her head.

"Not particularly. I'm simply relieved."

"Relieved?"

"That I no longer have to pretend everything happening here is acceptable."

Beatrix studied her for a moment, then smiled.

"Yeah. I think I understand that."

Melisande activated the lock, and the mechanism clicked softly.

Beyond the door lay another corridor, another stretch of the Institute they would have to pass through before reaching freedom.

Neither woman knew what consequences awaited them outside.

For now, Beatrix stepped forward, and Melisande followed.

Behind them, the Institute continued operating as though nothing had changed.

It would take some time before anyone realized just how much had.