CHAPTER FOUR: THE WEIGHT OF RETURN (Part six)
Night fell slowly over Celestis Veil.
Not all at once, but in folds—soft layers of blue and indigo draping across rooftops, curling into window corners, brushing the edge of the dorm with quiet hands.
Inside, the lights stayed off.
No one wanted to break the mood.
The only glow came from the resonance chart and Bubbalor's eyes—faint, steady, like stars holding back the dark.
Zephryn hadn't said another word since tracing the unlabeled line.
Selka hadn't asked again.
Kaelen sat cross-legged at the foot of his bed, staring at nothing.
Yolti drew circles on the floor with a shard of chalk, not even aware her fingers had begun to glow.
There was no plan.
No rally cry.
No grand speech.
But in that silence,
they were rebuilding something louder than any of it.
Outside the window, Riko finally stepped back.
His expression unreadable. Not rage. Not envy.
Something else.
Something deeper.
The kind of feeling that grows in the corners of someone who almost belonged.
He looked down at the cracked pulseglass again.
The reflection of Zephryn's silhouette stared back at him—blurry, broken by the shimmer of memory distortion.
He clenched his jaw.
Then turned and walked away.
Inside, Selka stood and finally broke the silence.
"He's still watching us."
Kaelen looked up. "Riko?"
She nodded once. "He never stopped."
Zephryn didn't flinch.
"He doesn't matter."
Selka's voice came soft. "He thinks you do."
Zephryn reached down, picked up the celestol pendant again, and looped it around his neck.
This time, the pulse didn't flicker.
It aligned.
Not loud. Not radiant.
But true.
Kaelen stood and crossed to the door.
His fingers rested on the latch—but didn't turn it.
He didn't need to.
Because tomorrow, it would open on its own.
And when it did…
they would all have to remember
what it meant to return.