Chapter 160: Hyperventilate
Ephyra slid into the back seat, her expression unreadable. Miles glanced at her through the rearview mirror, waiting.
"Where to, Miss Ephyra?"
She turned her gaze to the window, watching the world blur by. "Central Park," she said after a beat, her voice soft, almost absent.
Miles gave a brief nod and started the car. The restaurant was far, buried in a quieter part of the city, and the drive to Central Park took nearly two hours with traffic weaving in and out. Ephyra didn’t speak the entire time. She leaned against the window, eyes half-lidded, thoughts buried deep.
When they finally pulled up along the park’s edge, Miles eased the car to a stop. "We’re here, Miss Ephyra."
She opened her eyes slowly, her gaze distant as she looked at the familiar stretch of green and concrete paths that cut through the city’s heart. Then, without a word, she opened the door and stepped out.
"Go park somewhere," she said quietly, still not turning to face him. "I’ll be there for a while."
Miles inclined his head from the driver’s seat. "Understood."
Ephyra walked away, her heels tapping softly on the pavement before vanishing into the ambient hush of the trees. She headed east, toward the less crowded end of the park, where tourists thinned out and city dwellers turned into shadows scattered across benches and grassy fields.
It took her nearly thirty minutes of quiet wandering before she stopped. Central Park was vast—part wilderness, part stage—and today, it was teeming with life. Children squealed as they chased each other across the grass. Joggers passed with earbuds in and sweat on their brows. A street performer’s violin sang out under the arches of a bridge.
Ephyra barely noticed any of it.
Her face remained expressionless, porcelain in the wind. Her red hair danced in the breeze, catching the light like strands of ink in motion. She walked until she found a clearing—unfamiliar but quiet.