The air in Caledon Prime didn’t taste like dust and desperation. Laura walked a half-step behind Sara, her eyes wide behind the tinted lenses of her borrowed spectacles. Mar-Shada had been a wound of a world—dark, chaotic, everything sharp edges and predatory glances. Here, the walkways were clean, lit by soft, ambient panels set into the walls. Holographic advertisements shimmered with silent elegance, displaying fashions and tech far beyond anything she’d known on Artanis. The people moved with a purposeful, orderly flow. It was quiet. It felt… safe. The contrast was so violent it was dizzying.

“Stop gawking like a fucking tourist,” Sara muttered, her voice low and rough. She hadn’t slept. The strain of the escape, the constant vigilance, had sanded her usual stoicism down to a raw, irritable edge. “You look lost. Lost girls get noticed. Keep your eyes forward and your mouth shut unless I tell you otherwise.”

Laura flinched, the friendly illusion of the city cracking. “Yes, ma’am,” she whispered, the vocal modulator making it sound like a meek daughter’s reply.

Sara led them to a boutique fronted by a crystal-clear window displaying a single, stunning gown that seemed woven from solidified twilight. The sign read Silhouette. A soft chime announced their entry.

The interior was cool and smelled of ozone and clean linen. A man with impeccably groomed silver hair and a measuring tape around his neck glided forward. “Welcome to Silhouette. How may we enhance your presence today?”

Sara’s posture shifted, the hardened soldier melting into a wealthy, slightly harried matron. “We need to get my daughter suited for society. We’ve just arrived from the Fall, and our wardrobe is… rustic. We have an invitation to the Duke’s seasonal gala, and I won’t have her looking like a backwater relic.”

The shopkeeper’s eyes, magnified by thin lenses, appraised Laura. She fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest. “A gala! Of course. The ducal visitors’ aesthetic this cycle is ‘Audacious Elegance.’ May I show you our relevant collection?”

He led them past racks of finery to a secluded alcove. The dresses here were works of art—sleek, modern, and undeniably revealing. Sheer panels, daring cut-outs, fabrics that clung like a second skin.

Sara pointed at a gown in a vibrant, swirling pattern of blues and purples. It had a neckline that plunged to the sternum and a high slit that promised to …