And the Simurgh stood on the back of his hand, now. Back straight, wings spread, hair blowing in the wind, the golden light of the weapon itself suffusing her reflective silver skin. Like she was an extension of the weapon. The cameras they were using zoomed in on her, and the image began to distort.

Someone made the call to exclusively use the camera behind Dauntless, which viewed the scene from an angle where his body mostly blocked ninety percent of the Simurgh. Only a few wing-tip feathers were visible past his arm.

Sensible call.

There were more people in the situation room that I didn’t know, now, and far less in the way of familiar faces. Less capes, more civilians. My family had departed, and so had Vista and Narwhal. Only Cinereal remained.

I stood to the left of the door, my back to the wall, my hip resting against a protruding vent at the wall, where someone had left a coffee and a small pad of papers. My new vantage point for watching things crumble. Monitors showed the monsters and their respective journeys, with numbers in the corners going up as Teacher’s tech continued to track the threat and chance of things breaking.

My ‘new’ vantage point because I’d just moved a minute ago. I’d been standing with my right elbow touching the doorframe before. I’d moved because the monitor showing Nursery had included a new set of guests. My sister.

And I really didn’t want to look at her. Moving meant a jutting bit of ductwork blocked off most of that image.

That was reason one.

Reason two was that Darnall and Jessica stood to the right of the door. A part of me had hoped that by moving, leaving a void to my right for someone else to stand in, Jessica might approach.

Instead, they talked in low voices, unintelligible, not that I tried to listen in.

I paid more attention to the flow of the room, the degree of agitation, and the tenor of conversations that I couldn’t make out. I told myself I was being aware without being aware, existing in that state that was supposed to work with the shard space. Just in case I had to go back.

My empty fingernail bed pressed against my upper arm. It burned like it was on fire, if fire was sharp.

Pay attention to the beats that land, the moments of impact, the key elements in the flow of it all.

Tension, agitation, people writing things down, Cinereal leaning forward, taking over the comms. What little I could make out of her voice was more familiar, casual. It made me think more of me talking to a member of Breakthrough than me talking to Natalie.

My eyes went to the screens, just before they changed over. All screens now displaying different angles of the same event.