Neo stood with the others in that open Gray Hand yard, drawing breath back into his lungs one stubborn piece at a time while the ache in his body slowly stopped feeling like fire and became something duller, heavier, more livable. The place around them had none of the grotesque malice of the complex they had just escaped. It was plain stone, high walls, severe lines, and staff posted at measured distances like nails hammered into order.
After corridors that pulsed and chambers that screamed, that simplicity almost felt obscene. Cale bent first, hands braced on his knees, then gave up on dignity entirely and dropped onto the stone. Snot followed him down with a long groan that sounded half theatrical and half genuine. Alice leaned back against the wall, chest rising hard but steady. Helena alone remained upright without any visible concession to fatigue, as if pain had knocked and she had decided not to answer.
