The stars outside the window weren't moving.
They weren't frozen—just still, like they were holding their breath.
The room was quiet, wrapped in the soft sound of breathing—the small, steady kind that makes the whole world feel calm. Warm light glowed from the cradle near the bed, casting slow shadows on the wall.
Adam stood by the window, just watching. He wasn't sure why. Maybe because he still wasn't used to the quiet. Maybe because peace, after everything, felt like a language he'd forgotten.
Behind him, Mabel shifted.
She was sitting up in bed, her silver hair loose and catching the dim light. Her robe had slipped off one shoulder. In her arms, Eon was wrapped in a soft blue cloth, his tiny fingers curled around the edge. He fed slowly, eyes closed, making a quiet humming sound with each breath.
For a place filled with so much power, the room felt delicate—like one wrong move could break the moment.
Adam turned, a small smile touching his lips. "He doesn't cry much."
