Cruzer finally let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. The holding room wasn't much—sterile walls, a low hum of energy from the recovery vents, the faint metallic tang of processed air—but right now, it felt like a sanctuary. Every motion from his team was measured, weary. No one moved fast. No one needed to.
Charlotte tossed her hammer onto the weapon rack with a solid clang and flopped onto one of the benches, groaning. "Remind me to never fight a guy with sunfire again. That stuff hurts."
Zaya peeled off her thread-lined coat, revealing the faint singe marks laced across her arms. "Sunfire's fine. I'm more worried about the part where the ground tried to eat us."
Marin, already halfway through a nutrient vial, mumbled through a sip, "And the illusions. Gods, they were tuned to our memories. I saw my brother."
That made the room still for a moment.
Cruzer spoke quietly. "They wanted to break us from the inside first."
