It had been several weeks since Freya began working at Daniel's company. The chaos and strangeness of the human world had gradually settled into a rhythm she was beginning to understand. She no longer marveled at electric kettles or double-decker buses, and she could operate a computer faster than most of her colleagues. There was a quiet pride in that—learning to blend in, learning to survive.
But even with all the progress she had made, something was wrong.
Irene had been quieter lately.
She used to speak often—her voice echoing gently inside Freya’s mind like a heartbeat. But now, she came in short bursts, almost like she was gasping for air. Freya could feel her fading, like the connection between them was slowly unraveling.
"You need to return," Irene whispered that morning as Fre
