Ernesto sat on the edge of Becky’s hospital bed, elbows on his knees, a relaxed smile playing across his face. Becky leaned back against the raised headboard, her blonde braid draped over one shoulder, the corners of her mouth lifted in an easy, tired smile. Soft blue light from the monitoring machines washed over the white sheets and her pale face.

In the doorway, Danny leaned against the frame, arms crossed, watching the two of them with a flat, impatient expression. The hallway light behind him cast his shadow long across the floor.

"Honestly, I thought it was bad," Ernesto said, gesturing lightly with one hand. "You had us worried this time."

"You shouldn’t have been," Becky replied, her smile holding as she adjusted the thin blanket across her lap. "Why would you be?"

"I mean, the way Max reacted, I figured you were in worse shape. He grabbed Bram by the—"

"You know how Max is," Becky cut in quickly, her fingers tightening slightly on the edge of the sheet. "Speaking of him, where do you think he is?"

"Haven’t seen him today."

"And Bram?"

"At headquarters."

In the doorway, Danny’s jaw tightened. He shifted his weight, boots scraping softly against the tile. His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall, then back to Ernesto.

Ernesto kept his gaze on Becky. "Truthfully, I never believed a Donman could leave Goth," he said, voice warm with memory. "When you two joined us, it was the craziest thing to wrap my head around."

"We were all looking for something better," Becky said, her fingers tracing a small pattern on the blanket.

"A Donman’s better is in Goth," Ernesto replied with a small laugh. "But I know why you came along. Max wanted to make sure we got here safe." He nodded toward the thought, and Becky gave a small nod back, her expression softening.

"Yeah."

Danny’s watch buzzed against his wrist. He pushed off the wall and stepped inside, the movement sharp.

"Nesto. We need to go." His voice was flat, leaving no room for argument.

Ernesto looked at Becky one last time, reluctant. She gave him a small, reassuring nod. "I’ll be fine, Nesto."

He didn’t say goodbye. Instead, he stood, took two steps back, and began moving his fingers in a slow, precise oval in the air. A shimmering portal tore open in front of him, edges rippling with faint blue light, revealing a glimpse of another corridor beyond.

Ernesto glanced back once more, then stepped through. Danny followed without a word, the portal swallowing them both. The edges flickered, then collapsed in on themselves with a soft, fading hum, leaving only empty air.

Becky stared at the spot where the portal had been for a long second. Then she reached down and pulled back the sheet covering her lower body.

Her right foot was bent at a grotesque, impossible angle from the ankle — swollen, bruised, the bone clearly out of place.

She slid off the bed and set her weight onto the floor. The moment her foot touched down, the bones shifted with a sickening, audible pop. The ankle straightened, the swelling visibly receded, and the bruising faded from purple to nothing in real time.

She rolled her foot once, testing it, then stood fully upright on a perfectly healed leg.

She reached under the pillow and pulled out a black wig. The synthetic strands felt cool and slightly coarse between her fingers. She stood fully now, weight balanced perfectly on her healed foot, and carefully fit the wig over her head.

One by one, her blonde braids disappeared beneath the dark hair, tucked away until the long, straight black locks fell around her shoulders, framing a face that no longer looked like Rebecca Donman.

It has to be today, she thought, pulling on her boots. The leather was stiff and cool against her skin as she zipped them up. No day’s going to be better than this.

Her coms watch buzzed from the bedside table, the screen lighting up with Max’s name. She glanced over, jaw tightening for a second, then looked away.

Not now, Max.

She let it ring out. It started again. She ignored it and stretched her arms overhead, feeling the pull in her shoulders and the faint remaining ache in her ribs that was already fading. She rolled her neck once, the bones cracking softly, then moved to the small closet.

She changed quickly. A plain white tee slid over her head, hugging her chest and shoulders. She stepped into a high-waisted mini skirt, the fabric tight around her hips and short enough to show the full length of her legs. The outfit felt foreign on her body — nothing like her usual practical clothes — but that was the point.

"What’s taking so long?" she murmured, almost to herself, crossing to the window. The glass was cool under her palm. She looked out, then up at the clear sky, the morning sun already climbing high.

She slid the window open. Cool air rushed in, carrying the distant sounds of the capital streets below.

A knock sounded at the door. Becky didn’t look back. She didn’t move. A second later, Abram Nadez stepped into the room.

"Sorry I’m a bit late," he said, breathing hard like he’d run the whole way.

"What took you so long?" she asked, frustration sharpening her voice. She turned back to the window without waiting for an answer.

Abram crossed to the bed. His features began to shift — skin rippling, bones subtly realigning, hair lightening and lengthening until he was wearing Becky’s face, her blonde braid, her exact posture. The imposter settled onto the bed, pulling the sheet over his legs as if he had always belonged there.

Becky dropped from the window without hesitation.

Her boots hit the gravel below with a soft crunch. She straightened smoothly, brushing a stray strand of black hair from her cheek. The new look — dark hair, different clothes, different posture — made her feel like someone else entirely. Lighter. Sharper. Unrecognizable.

Her coms watch buzzed against her wrist. Max. She answered as she started walking.

"I’m on it."

"Be careful." His voice came through, tighter than usual, more concerned. "If you’re not ready, say so. We can take another day. Find another way in."

"We’ve been preparing for this since we were kids, Max," Becky said, her steps steady on the pavement. "There’s no way I’m pulling out now."

"Yeah," he agreed after a beat. "But be careful. She might be dying, but she’s still a primordial."

Becky smiled, small and sharp, as she moved deeper into the morning streets.

"Worry about yourself, Max. You’d think she’s the first one I’ve ever handled."