Months Later,
The room was still a frozen tomb with no amenities, its scarred walls and jagged window framing the starry void beyond.
Thirty occupants huddled in ragged scraps, their breaths fogging, their lives mere tallies in the Kingdom's logs.
Vanes crouched in a corner, her human guise—pale skin, brown hair, dull gaze—unremarkable, her daughter calm, brown eyes soft.
She fed her child crumbs from her food packet, her brown eyes bright, her human form innocent, cute, her shapeshifter blood a secret.
A thunderous rumble shook the room, the floor quivering under heavy boots.
Whispers hissed among the occupants, their gaunt faces tightening, eyes darting to the door.
Enforcer drones had swept the Backdrop's alleys, scanners glinting, but this was louder, relentless.
Vanes clutched her daughter, pulse quickening, crumbs slipping from her grasp.
