The hum beneath his palm faded.
Not stopped. Just softened. Like Ashwing had decided, for now, not to break anything.
Lindarion exhaled.
His breath fogged in the cold room. The warmth from Ashwing wasn't enough. Not for the walls. Not for the quiet that followed.
Lira had left.
Ren, too.
He hadn't asked them to.
But they'd gone.
Because there was nothing left to say.
He sat with his back to the wall, one knee pulled up, the other stretched out. Ashwing curled beside him, tail looping over the warped boards. His breath rose in lazy clouds. Steam curled near the broken pack in the corner.
Outside, the wind was picking up again. Not enough to rattle anything. Just enough to remind him it was waiting.
He shut his eyes.
Just for a second.
He didn't fall asleep.
But the silence slipped sideways.
And that's when he heard it.
Voices.
Muffled. Low. Down the hall.
