I woke to Wren shifting beside me. The room was still dim. The faint golden glow under her skin hadn’t faded. It pulsed gently with her breathing.

She was already awake, watching the light in her forearm.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to… I don’t know why it’s still there. Is that bad?”

I rested my hand over hers. “You’re not in trouble. How do you feel?”

“Different. Lighter. Like my hands know what they’re doing before I tell them.”

--

“Fascinating,” Yeleth said. “The Anchor interaction has not merely amplified her output. It has altered it. Her Weave used to accelerate damaged cells toward repair. Now it accelerates healthy processes as well. Reaction speed, muscular response, neural latency...all elevated.” Its tentacles flexed. “Ezra changed the qualitative nature of her manifestation.”

Priya stood against the far wall, arms crossed. When Yeleth finished she spoke without looking up from her slate.

“Nobody outside this room hears about this. Strength increases we can market. A Warden whose power rewrote itself because she slept with the captain is a political problem I do not need this week. Understood?”

Wren nodded fast. “Yes. I’m sorry. I won’t tell anyone.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I said.

Priya’s mouth twitched. “Correct. You did something expensive.”

--

The simulator loaded a plaza defense. Maren took point. Saya cut the flanks. Wren stayed in the pocket, until a construct clipped Maren’s shoulder. Wren touched her arm.

Maren’s next movement blurred. She caught the follow-up spike, turned, and put the construct through a wall. Her eyes went wide.

“What the hell was that?”

“Sorry,” Wren said, then caught herself. “Did it help?”

Maren rolled her shoulder. A grin started. “Do it again.”

They ran it twice more. Each time Wren touched Maren, her reaction window tightened and her hits landed harder. On the third run a construct broke the line. Wren touched her own sternum instead. The glow flared. She stayed inside the formation instead of falling behind.

The simulation ended with all three still standing.

Wren stood in the plaza, breathing hard, the light settling under her skin. She looked at the frozen markers.

Maren clapped her shoulder. “Progress.”

From the observation deck I watched the numbers update. Survival probability had jumped. Wren looked at her hands, but for the first time she wasn’t apologizing for existing in the formation.

--

After every run she came out pale and starving. Maren kept protein bars in her pockets. Saya timed the windows and told her when she was about to drop.

That was how soup night started.

The Hearth was already warm. Wren stirred a massive pot, hair tied back, the glow almost gone.

Maren leaned against the counter, stealing carrot. Saya sliced vegetables in even strips, occasionally glancing at me.

I took the stool across from them. Wren’s eyes flicked up. A small smile tugged at her mouth before she ducked her head.

“It’s almost ready. I made extra.”

“If you’re hungry after,” Maren said, bumping her shoulder. “It’s fine. Eat.”

Saya set the knife down. “The metabolic cost is consistent.” She paused. “The soup smells acceptable.”

Wren’s ears went pink. She set the first bowl in front of me. Our fingers brushed. She didn’t pull away.

Saya ate in precise bites, gaze drifting between my hands, Wren finding reasons to stand near me, and Maren stealing from my bowl.

Halfway through the second pot the chime sounded.

“Shuttle docking, bay three. Halvorsen Group transport. Captain to the airlock.”

The airlock was still cycling when we reached it. Maren and Saya had come with me. Wren stayed to finish cleaning.

The inner door opened.

She stepped through like the corridor had offended her. Her eyes swept the bay and found all of it wanting.

She stopped in front of me and smiled with too many teeth.

“Odessa Tanary,” she said. “You’ve probably heard of me.”

She looked past me at the ship.

“So this is the famous Steadfast. Charming. I assume the five-year contract includes hazard pay for the décor.”