The orphanage was silent.
Not the warm, lively silence of daytime when children whispered secrets under blankets — but the kind that settled heavy after midnight, when even the lanterns seemed to breathe slower.
Noel sat on the edge of the narrow bed the sisters had prepared for him, elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced together. The room was simple — wooden desk, small window, a single candle burning low — but he recognized it instantly.
The same room where he once slept with Marcus, Laziel, and Garron during the attack months ago.
Tonight, he was alone.
Noir lay curled beside him, black fur blending with the shadows, violet eyes watching him quietly.
The stillness pressed in from all sides.
There was no laughter of kids through the walls, no Charlotte humming somewhere in the corridors, no distant footsteps of late-working sisters.
Just Noel.
And the weight of everything that had changed today.
He rubbed the back of his neck slowly, letting a long breath escape.
