Ling takes the call on the far edge of the camp.
Away from the fire.
Away from voices.
Away from anything that might witness the slightest fracture in her composure.
"Mom" glows on the screen.
Ling answers on the second ring.
"Yes, Mother."
No softness. No hesitation. Perfect control.
"You were alone with her again," Eliza says. Not a question.
Ling's jaw tightens imperceptibly. "Mira exaggerates."
Silence.
The kind Eliza uses like a blade—letting it hover just long enough to make the other person speak first.
"There was nothing inappropriate," Ling continues evenly. "She was injured. I handled it."
"You warmed her piercing with your mouth, right?" Eliza replies calmly.
The words land clean. Surgical.
Ling's fingers curl slowly around the phone.
"That's not—"
"—medical," Eliza finishes for her. "Don't insult me by pretending otherwise."
Ling exhales through her nose. "You're listening to Mira."
"I'm listening to what my eyes have been trained to see for decades," Eliza says. "And I see fixation. I see you. I know you."
Ling straightens, spine stiff, pride bristling. "You see what you want to see."
"I see what you refused to," Eliza snaps, the first crack in her voice. "And I will not let you make this mistake."
"I didn't do anything wrong," Ling says coldly.
"No," Eliza agrees. "You did worse. Mira loved foolishly. You don't even admit you're falling."
Ling says nothing.
That silence tells Eliza everything.
"You think you're in control," Eliza continues. "You think because you haven't touched her the way you want to, because you haven't said the word, that you're losing control."
Ling's grip tightens until the phone digs into her palm.
"You don't know what I want," Ling says.
Eliza's voice lowers. "I know exactly what you want. That girl doesn't bow to you. She doesn't fear you. And worst of all—she bleeds and you kneel."
Ling's breath stills.
"She is not your equal," Eliza says sharply. "And she will destroy you if you let her."
Ling's voice is clipped now. Defensive. Controlled. Dangerous.
"She's nothing."
Eliza laughs softly. Bitter. "That's what scares me."
A pause.
Then, firm. Absolute.
"Stay away from Rhea Nior."
Ling's lips press into a thin line.
"This is not a request," Eliza adds. "This is a warning."
"I don't take warnings," Ling replies.
Eliza doesn't raise her voice.
"Mira has been part of your life since childhood," Eliza continues. "She understands you. She fits. She doesn't challenge your authority at every turn."
Ling says nothing.
"And this girl," Eliza adds, almost dismissively, "does nothing but provoke you. Publicly. Repeatedly."
"She doesn't matter," Ling replies quickly.
Eliza's tone shifts—just slightly. "Then you should have no trouble proving it."
Ling's breath stills.
"I won't have my daughter distracted," Eliza says. "You've worked too hard to let some defiant fresher pull you off course."
Ling's pride flares. "I'm not off course."
"Yet you're talking to me from a campsite instead of resting," Eliza replies. "Because Mira cried. Because you're defensive. Because this conversation exists."
"Stay in control," Eliza says at last. Not unkind. Not cruel. Just firm. "That is all I ask of you."
Ling's voice hardens. "I am in control."
"You will this time," Eliza says. "Because if you don't, I will intervene. And I promise you—she will be the one who pays for it."
That does it.
Something dark stirs under Ling's ribs—not fear.
Possession.
"You won't touch her," Ling says quietly.
Eliza smiles on the other end. Ling can hear it.
"Then don't give me a reason to."
"Distance yourself. End this before it becomes something I need to interfere in."
Ling's jaw locks.
"I won't hurt Mira," Ling says.
"That's not what I'm worried about," Eliza answers. "I'm worried about you."
The call ends.
Ling lowers the phone slowly.
Around her, the camp is alive—laughter, firelight, careless youth.
Inside her, something ancient and violent shifts.
She doesn't go back to the tent.
She doesn't go to Rhea.
She stands there instead, staring into the dark treeline, jaw clenched, pulse hammering—caught between a mother who commands and a girl she refuses to name.
For the first time in her life, Ling Kwong understands something terrifying:
Control is no longer hers.
And walking away may cost her less than staying—but staying will cost her everything
And Eliza is right about one thing.
Whatever this is—
It is already testing her control.