Rosmira lands hard on polished tile, and the chamber around her dissolves into a flash of pink light. The air changes at once, warmer, drier, and heavy with perfume and sea salt.
She is no longer in Eros's room. Neon Central spills open around them now, a rooftop lounge high above the city, glass railings glittering under rain-wet signs.
Fanrir skids back from the circle of light, bristling, while Leon stays planted at Rosmira's side. Nayla steps in front of him on instinct, jaw tight. Cleara scans the rooftop edges, already searching for the next threat.
Eros
Well. That was rude. But this is a much better stage.
Rosmira
Rosmira gives Eros a flat look, then turns her attention to the rooftop and her companions.
The lounge is empty except for a low table, half-melted candles, and a curtain snapping in the wind. Below, traffic blurs into ribbons of gold and white. Above, the night sky opens wide and dangerous.
Nayla Iko
If he follows, I want him to know he is choosing this.
Leon Wolfe
We are not trapped anymore. Good.