The rooftop wind whispered secrets, but none loud enough to offer answers.
The horizon bled into shadows, and above, the stars bore witness in silence.
Kairon stood, slow and deliberate, brushing flecks of dust from his dark uniform. His expression was unreadable—calm, almost detached. Beside him, Aria remained seated, her fists clenched against the concrete edge.
"We can't keep waiting," she said, her voice taut, controlled—but her eyes betrayed the storm behind them. "If we stall any longer, we'll lose more."
Kairon's gaze lingered on the distant lights of the dormitory windows, some still glowing, most already dark. "You're going after Ivy."
It wasn't a question.
Aria turned her head slightly, eyes meeting his. "I have to. Something's off about her. You said so yourself."
Kairon didn't reply. He didn't need to. Silence, in his hands, was a tool sharper than blades.
Aria stood slowly, tension in her shoulders, jaw tight. "I'll confront her. You… do what you do."
