POV: Aurora
If Umbra were a person, she would tell me to make a table.
"Variables, Aurora. Weights, Aurora."
So that's what I do. Without opening the system, without graphs. Just me, a blank sheet of paper, and a pencil.
At the top, I write two columns.
Leave.
Stay.
I stare at the headings for a long time, as if they were two doors. Neither has an "emergency exit" sign. Both are tunnels.
I start with the easy one. "Leave."
I write:
— Regain my "freedom."
— Not depend on a clan or an alpha.
— To have a real sky again, not a programmed panel.
— To decide for myself again who I talk to, where I sleep, which bus I take.
I laugh to myself about the bus. The pencil trembles.
I continue:
— Put distance between myself and the foundation.
— Put distance between myself and Noir.
There, the pencil lingers a second too long on the paper. "Put distance between myself and Noir." I write his last name because his first name feels too intimate for a list.
