The bookstore door clicked shut behind Zaire, the streets glimmering under a reluctant sun, and Eldermere's silence returned, thick and ancient, as if it had teeth.
However, someone else had been listening.
Across the street, partially concealed by a crumbling stone wall, a figure stood still.
Draped in a dark, weathered coat, their features hidden by a low hood, sunlight glinted off nearby stained glass.
They remained unblinking and motionless, simply observing from a distance.
Her.
The girl whose name echoed through time. The girl with a laugh too light for her past and eyes filled with unrecognized weight.
Niah Viremont.
"She's reminiscing," the observer murmured softly, their voice fragile like old parchment. "Too early… or far too late."
They emerged from under the arch as the bookstore door shut again, melding into the form of a passerby, unnoticed in Eldermere's slow pace.
Yet, as their boots met the cobblestones, their thoughts felt heavy.
They recalled the last time Rain had stirred.
And the last girl who had whispered his name like a prayer. This time, the world felt different and more fragile.
If Zaire was here, if Rain roamed the streets again, it signified the cycle had begun to turn once more.
The watcher touched the inside of their coat, fingers brushing against a folded parchment marked with an ancient symbol, the same one imprinted in the last chapel journal. The same one Niah would soon discover.
They continued on, gaze lowered, hearts pounding like an over-wound clock.
She doesn't know her true nature.
He doesn't recall what he has lost.
But someone had to remember.
And someone had to prevent what was approaching.
* * *