The conversation with his father had closed the last door that needed closing.
Noel did not walk the corridors to find his siblings. He did not ask to see the wives. There was no anger left in him for them — but there was no energy either. No desire to reopen rooms that had already been emptied.
Some chapters did not require farewells.
He stepped out into the courtyard of the Thorne estate one final time. Spring air moved gently through the trimmed trees, warm and orderly, a quiet contrast to the winter he had just left behind in Iskandar. Servants kept their distance. No one attempted to stop him.
Noel stood still for a brief second.
"Spatial Shift."
There was no surge of spectacle. No violent distortion. Space tightened around him cleanly, like fabric pulled taut between two fingers.
And then—
The estate vanished.
The journey across continents had taken weeks in total.
Not because the conversations were long. Most of them had been direct, efficient, necessary.
