Eli stood still, his eyes fixed on the space where Atlas had been just moments ago. And just like that—he was gone. Not a trace of him remained. It wasn't dramatic. There was no flash of light, no gust of wind, not even the faintest shimmer of how he disappeared just like that.
The silence he left behind was total, oppressive in a way that made the world feel a little colder. It was as if someone had reached into the room and snuffed out a candle without warning, leaving the shadows untouched and undisturbed.
Eli's small hands balled into fists at his sides, not from anger but because he didn't know what else to do with them. There was something tight in his chest, something heavy pressing down on his ribs that made it hard to breathe.
It wasn't grief exactly—not the kind he understood—but something close. He didn't cry. He just stood there quietly, watching Aunt Liora out of the corner of his eye.
