Roy's feet stayed rooted to the spot.
The street was empty, with no trace of the woman who'd walked beside him. The only proof she'd been real was the strange lingering weighting in the air, like a melody he couldn't hear anymore but still felt a deep connection to in his heart
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, neither falling nor rising, 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.
Might even crush him.
At the edge of his hearing, if he could even call it that, there was a faint sound. Not a voice. Not of words. More like the memory of someone whispering his name, too far away to understand and too close to ignore.
When he turned, there was nothing. Nothing but this eternal night.
Roy shoved his hands into his pockets and walked into it.
_________________________________________________________________________
Morning light split across a different ceiling, this one in Kieran's room.
Kieran groaned into his pillow. The thought of going to school today felt more like a chore buried under ten more chores. He'd rather skip straight to the tournament, skip the lectures, and skip the waiting.
He was excited, unusually.
But skipping school would just mean someone, probably Brock, nagging him about it later.
He exhaled sharply, sat up and ran a hand through his hair to set it right. "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.
This October morning was painful, he thought to himself.
When he arrived at the train station, Roy was already there, leaning casually against the rail.
"Are you all ready to fight today?" Roy asked.
"Yeah," Kieran replied, adjusting his bag as it was tilting to one side.
They walked to the bike rack, Kieran locked his 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, the train stopped at a train station, and someone stepped into their mostly empty carriage.
It was Malen.
She spotted them instantly and offered a small wave.
They waved back.
Her hands began to move.
Her fingers shaped the air with practised ease, her thumb brushing under her chin in a flick, then her hands spreading outward in a slight arc: "Are you okay?"
Kieran and Roy exchange a quick glance and reply at the same time.
Their thumbs up and hands angled forward with a simple small nod: "All good."
Roy added a subtle brow raise and a point toward her in return; "And you?"
Malen's reply was simple; her four fingers lifted off her chin to them: "Good."
Keiran asked aloud, "Where are you headed?" He spoke casually.
Her hands moved again. Both palms patted downward for "children", her finger twisted at her nose for "bored", then she signed "home". A clap of her hands marked "school", followed by both F-shaped hands coming together: "Important". She signed, "They were getting bored at home. They're old enough for school. Education is important."
Roy and Kieran nodded. Both knew the truth of it, even if their own school attendance was dwindling near to the 75th percentile.
"Yeah, it is 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 brushed her hand forward from her chin and twisted her wrist 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 this stillness, the ties ran deeper.
Malen's fingers danced in fluid, practised movements, her sleeves shifting just enough to hide most of it from prying eyes. Both hands flicked forward in a subtle motion. 'Match?' The casual tilt of her wrist could have been mistaken for stretching.
Kieran caught the movement and replied in the same discreet language, his hand angled outward as if adjusting his jacket, and he signed. "My first one is today, but from what I watched, most of them were boring."
Roy's reply came slower, deliberate. His dominant hand moved outward, palm flat, and then angled slightly down with a shake. "It wasn't that it was boring; it was just not interesting."
Malen's brow lifted, and her index finger traced a small arc outward from her chest, palm up. "Different how?"
"Contenders," Roy said aloud, as if explaining to no one in particular. "They were just not as good as I expected."
The train rocked gently as Malen adjusted her bag, her next signs tucked low behind the strap. Both hands fluttered outward, palms down. "Children restless." Her dominant hand circled at the temple, then flicked forward. "Testing her patience."
Kieran smirked. His hand punched thumb and forefinger together, tapping twice at his chin. "Seeds?"
Implying at the thing she does with the little black seeds.
Malen nodded, her hands forming small circles near her chest. "Healing drills." She signed "injury" by tracing her middle finger down her opposite arm, then shook her head sharply. "Fake." A quick downward push of both hands. "Skip chores." Her fingers paused midair, then brushed forward. "She saw right through it."
Roy looked over again after staring out of the window, his hands forming an 'I' shape. Moving in a small arc near his eyes. "Ilya doesn't miss much."
Malen shifted the conversation. Her hands crossed at the wrists, then pulled apart. "Marrow." She tapped her shoulders twice. "Came back last night."
Kieran's signing slowed. His hands traced a borderline across his forearm. "From the border job?"
She nodded, brushing her palm outward. "No trouble." Her hand opened, palm up, then drifted forward with fingers spread. "Air empty."
Roy questioned what she meant. His hand hovered, palm down, then dipped slightly. "Empty… can mean many things."
The train's announcement crackled overhead. Malen kept her hands low, index finger circling near her lips and then pointing outward. "Solenne asked about you two."
Kieran rolled his eyes. His hands flicked forward in a quick sequence. "Match statistics." Then he signed, "Winning chances?"
Malen's mouth twitched in a suppressed smile. Her hand brushed forward from her chin, then tapped her wrist. "Sleep before midnight?"
"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 his hand brushed once across his mouth, wiping the smile off his face.
The overhead voice called out their stop. They all got up and waited for the door to open to get off.
Once they got off, Malen gave them a short nod and a little wave before she left; the two of them walked off in different directions the moment their boots touched the platform.