The flight back to the Academy was silent.
The steady hum of the transport's engines was the only sound. No one spoke. The mission was a success.
The Chimera threat, a plague born of the Bureau's arrogance, was over. The team had silently secured the cave, watching as the nursery pods withered and died, their life force extinguished with the Broodmother's final, psychic command.
The dead drones were just ugly statues now, a silent testament to the horrific battle they had won.
But the mood on the transport was heavy, not celebratory. No one was cheering. No one was recounting tales of their victory. The air was thick with a shared exhaustion that went deeper than just tired muscles or spent energy. It was a weariness of the soul.
They all kept stealing glances at Jonah. He sat quietly in the corner, staring out the reinforced window at the desolate landscape rushing by below. He wasn't their ace in the hole anymore, or the strange kid with the weirder powers.
