Roy's feet stayed rooted to the spot.
The street was empty now — no trace of the woman who'd walked beside him. The only proof she'd been real was the strange, lingering weight in the air, like a melody he couldn't hear anymore but still felt deep in his chest.
He let out a slow breath. It came out visible in the cold, curling upward into the flickering amber light. For a moment, the breath didn't just drift away — it hung there, thick and slow, almost as if time wanted to keep it in place.
The haze from earlier hadn't returned, but the quiet was so complete it felt like it might press in on him.
At the edge of his hearing — if he could even call it that — there was a faint sound.
Not a voice. Not words. More like the memory of someone whispering his name, too far away to understand, too close to ignore.
When he turned, there was nothing.
Nothing but the night.
Roy shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking.
Morning light spilt across a different ceiling — this one in Kieran's room.
Kieran groaned into his pillow. The thought of going to school today felt like a chore buried under ten more chores. He'd rather skip straight to the tournament, skip the lectures, and skip the waiting. But skipping school would just mean someone — Brock probably — nagging him about it later.
He exhaled sharply, sat up, and ran a hand through his hair. "Let's just get this over with…"
Throwing on his uniform, he half-tucked his shirt in, grabbed his bag, and stepped outside to where his bike leaned against the wall. The morning air bit at his face as he pedalled, the streets blurring into a familiar route.
When he arrived at the train station, Roy was already there, leaning casually against the rail.
"All ready to fight today?" Roy asked.
"Yeah," Kieran replied, adjusting his bag strap.
They walked their bikes to the rack, locked them up, and boarded the train once it arrived. The steady hum of the tracks filled the short silences between their words.
Halfway through the ride, someone stepped into their carriage — Malen.
She spotted them instantly and offered a small wave before her hands began to move.
Her fingers shaped the air with practiced ease — thumb brushing under her chin in a flick, then hands spreading outward in a slight arc: "Are you okay?"
Kieran and Roy exchanged a quick glance, replying at the same time.
Thumbs up, hands angled forward with a small nod: "All good."
Roy added a subtle brow raise in return: "And you?"
Malen's reply was simple — a soft circle over her heart before pointing at them: "Good."
Kieran asked aloud, "Where are you headed?" He spoke casually, but his voice carried just enough clarity for her to read his lips.
Her hands moved again — index fingers pointing downward twice for "kids", then a sweeping motion outward: "They were getting bored at home." She tapped her temple, then mimed writing: "They're old enough for school. Education is important."
Roy and Kieran nodded — both knowing the truth of it, even if their own school attendance sometimes felt like a slow death by boredom.
"Important", Kieran said, "but jarring."
Malen's lips curled into a faint smirk, one that said 'you'll see' without her needing to sign it. She just flicked her fingers forward from her chin and twisted her wrist in midair: "You'll thank me later."
The train rolled on, sunlight stuttering through passing buildings. None of them said much more after that.
From the outside, it looked like nothing more than three acquaintances having a short, friendly chat. But beneath the stillness, the ties ran deeper.
Malen's fingers danced in fluid, practiced movements, her sleeves shifting just enough to hide most of it from prying eyes. How were the matches? The flick of her wrist was casual enough that a stranger might think she was stretching.
Kieran caught the movement and replied in the same discreet language, his own hand tilting at an angle as if adjusting his jacket. The first one is today. But it's going to be boring as always, though just from what I saw.
Roy's reply came slower, deliberate. They weren't boring. Just… different. His eyes didn't lift from the train window, but Malen caught the slight curl of his fingers against his thigh — the subtlety that came from someone who had spent years communicating without ever looking like they were doing it.
Different how? She signed back, eyebrow raising.
"Crowds", Roy said aloud, as if explaining to no one in particular. "Louder than I thought." The words were meaningless to other passengers.
The train rocked gently as Malen adjusted her bag, her next signs hidden behind the strap. The kids have been restless. Ilya's been working with them, but they keep testing her patience.
Kieran smirked. They'd test anyone's patience. Is she still doing the thing with the little black seeds?
Yes. The healing drills. Two of them tried to fake injuries just to skip chores. Her fingers hesitated for half a beat. She saw right through it.
Roy finally looked over, the faintest ghost of a smile there and gone. Ilya doesn't miss much.
Malen shifted the conversation without missing a beat. She signed Marrow came back last night.
Kieran's signing slowed. From the border job?
She nodded. No trouble. Said the air there felt "empty". Didn't explain what that meant.
Roy's gaze flicked back to the window. "Empty" can mean a lot of things. It was said like he was talking to himself, but Kieran caught the brief tightening in his jaw — Roy was already filing that away as a possible lead.
The train's announcement crackled overhead. Malen kept her hands low. Solenne asked about you two.
Kieran rolled his eyes. Let me guess — you wanted match statistics, victory odds, and weather patterns for the next week?
Malen's mouth twitched in a suppressed smile. She also asked if you'd learnt to sleep before midnight yet.
"She doesn't even leave that glass room of hers, and she still nags like my grandmother," Kieran muttered under his breath.
Roy didn't comment, but the corner of his mouth quirked ever so slightly.
The talk shifted again — as naturally as a river changing course. Garric's been pushing himself harder. Training in the upper courtyard even after dusk. Solenne's worried.
He's been dying since the day we met him, Roy signed slowly. He knows it. So do we.
There was no judgement in the movement of his hands, only acceptance.
Kieran's brows furrowed. Still. Maybe someone should—
Talk to him? Roy finished. If he's not ready to stop, words won't change it.
The brief silence between them wasn't awkward — just heavy.
Finally, Malen broke it with a lighter sign. Thatch rebuilt the outer wall yesterday. Again.
Kieran chuckled. That man lives for breaking and fixing things. Bet he enjoyed it.
He did, Malen replied. Though Elowen said he nearly flattened one of her illusions by mistake. She's still sulking.
Roy tapped the glass of the train window once, like he was knocking on the thought itself. We'll see them all soon enough.
The overhead voice called their station. Malen gave them a short nod, her hands flicking one last time. Stay sharp today. I'll keep the kids busy.
Kieran gave a quick thanks in reply. Roy didn't move his hands, but the brief meeting of their eyes was answer enough.
They stepped off the train together, the three of them walking in separate directions the moment their boots touched the platform.
To everyone else, it looked like nothing more than a casual encounter.