The world outside the weather station was a dim haze—nothing like a sunrise, but a murky, filtered glow strained through thick storm clouds that hung low and heavy above. The orb peeked faintly behind the blanket of grey, a pale eye watching the world, its eerie presence muted but undeniable—a distant, ominous glow that hinted at the coming day despite the heavy sky swallowing much of the light.
The wind was gathering strength, rattling boarded-up windows and rattling loose debris across the clearing.
Inside, the broken lanterns had sputtered out overnight. Zara's eyelids fluttered open, her senses slow to catch up. Her body ached with stiffness from the night spent half-sleeping on cold floors and hard corners. But there was something else: a subtle sense of displacement that made her blink in confusion. Where was she? The last thing she remembered was lying against Winter's chest, the worn-out console humming quietly beside them.
