The carriage stood under a wash of unstable blue, the field rings ghosting in and out as if the machine had found a rhythm without asking permission. On the bench beside it lay the copy drive he had palmed when they moved him upstairs. Not an accident then. Not a sleepwalker’s drift. A choice waiting where he had left it for himself.

Amara stopped at the threshold. “Elias.”

He turned. The light made all three of them look older. “There’s one thing I can still do that neither of you should.”

Jonas came down hard on the last step and grabbed the rail to steady himself. “No. Absolutely not. We are past the part where you disappear and call it duty.”

Elias held his gaze. “I left someone there.”

Amara took one step into the room. “You don’t know where there is anymore. You don’t know when. The return lock was unstable. The safe window was spent on your way back—this isn’t a controlled return, Elias, it’s a blind tear.”

Elias looked at the flowers and said, “I know.” He looked at her, then at Jonas, then at the flowers he had set on the upstairs table and could somehow still see as clearly as if they were in front of him. “That’s why I’m not asking permission.”

He moved before either of them could close the distance. One hand caught the carriage rail. The other slapped the drive into the side slot. The field flared so bright the air seemed to turn solid.

“Elias—” Jonas lunged.

Amara reached for the cutoff, but Elias had already kicked the manual brake free.