Nathan watched Freja's figure disappear beyond the doorway, her cloak rippling once in the faint breeze before the night swallowed her.
His eyes lingered for a moment longer than necessary.
She really was remarkable.
After two years in a world that devoured innocence and blurred the very meaning of trust, Freja still thought of her classmates—still wanted to protect them. That kind of loyalty was rare, almost naïve, and yet… admirable.
Nathan couldn't imagine doing the same.
His own classmates had once mocked him, discarded him, treated him like filth. Even now, when their faces occasionally surfaced in his memories, all he felt was cold detachment. There were exceptions, of course—but not many.
He exhaled quietly and turned away from the door.
One presence was missing.
"Where's Servilia?" he asked, his tone even, though his gaze sharpened slightly.
"She's sleeping upstairs," Elin answered, still busy collecting her healing tools.
