I could hear Zichen and Yike softly conversing near the window, their voices hushed and careful, as if the very air around them demanded secrecy. Steady skies filtered through the glass, highlighting the intensity of their expressions. Their words were low and deliberate, creating an atmosphere thick with intrigue.
Though I couldn't make out every word, the cadence of their exchange was enough to tell me it wasn't idle chatter.
Their conversation unfolded in a tense atmosphere, driven by urgency to make sense of the chaos around them.
Every word exchanged held significant meaning as they both sought clarity amid the confusion swirling around them.
I continued to keep my breathing steady, slow, mimicking sleep. But inside, I was wide awake, my ongoing thoughts spiraling. Knowing that the eclipse had come and gone, yet the world hadn't returned to normal.
In the absence of both the sun and the moon, an eerie, ethereal glow enveloped the landscape, shifting in color from deep indigos to soft pastel pinks, yet remaining constant in its mysterious origin. It was as though the sky had transformed into a vast canvas, brushed by the hands of ancient gods, while we existed merely as fleeting shadows, delicately etched against this otherworldly backdrop.
The relentless cycle of my thoughts, swirling between the palpable tension in the air and the icy, still expanse of the sky, served as a clear signal: it was time for me to rise and quietly eavesdrop rather than interject. I understood that voicing my opinion would only serve to escalate the heated atmosphere.
I changed position to see if the others slept soundly, or at least they pretended to. Tianyi's form was still, her face turned toward the wall, but I could tell by the occasional twitch of her fingers that she wasn't truly resting. Biahe had curled into herself, her breathing shallow, her expression unreadable even in sleep. Steve had taken up a position near the door, his back straight, eyes open. He didn't plan to sleep.
I subtly adjusted my position beneath the soft, warm blanket, returning to the comfort of my original resting spot. With a careful breath, I tuned in to the muffled conversations drifting through the window, captivated by the familiar voices stirring my imagination with their distant stories.
Zichen and Yize's voices remained low, but now I could make out fragments—sharp edges of sentences that sliced through the quiet like broken glass.
"…it was a mistake," Yize whispered, his voice taut with frustration. "Following Tianyi like that. She doesn't know what she's doing."
Zichen's reply came after a pause, deliberate and cold. "She's my sister. You think I don't know her limits?"
"That's exactly why I'm saying this," Yize hissed. "You're blinded by loyalty. She's leading us into a dead end."
I shifted again, careful not to rustle the blanket too loudly. My body begged for rest, but my mind refused.
"Yize, my sister, possesses a deep understanding of her actions, and that is her power, a certainty that comes from her unique perspective on the world. You cannot comprehend the sights and experiences that have shaped her understanding and wisdom."
I stared at the ceiling, tracing invisible patterns in the plaster, trying to distract myself from the urge to get up and confront them.
But I didn't. I stayed.
Instead, I sat up slowly, pressing my back against the cool wall behind me. It was the only surface that felt real, grounding me in the moment.
Yize's voice rose slightly, just enough to carry through the thin pane. "You saw what happened. The younger ones—those kids—they were left behind. We didn't even look back."
"They were told to stay," Zichen replied, his tone clipped. "We made a decision. You agreed."
"I agreed because I thought we'd come back for them," Yize snapped. "Not leave them to fend for themselves in a world that's falling apart."
I wanted to go out there, to say something, anything. But I knew my voice would only add another layer of tension. So I stayed silent, letting the wall cradle my spine, letting the weight of exhaustion pull at my limbs.
Zichen's voice softened, but it carried a bitter edge. "You keep saying we abandoned them. But you were the one who said we needed to move fast. You were also part of the one who mapped the route."
"I mapped it to get us out and quickly reach this area," Yize said. "Not to leave them behind."
A long silence followed. I envisioned them standing close together, their faces inches apart, the night hues of the steady sky casting across their features. Zichen's jaw was clenched, and Yize's eyes burned with conviction.
I shifted again, curling my legs beneath me, the blanket pooling around my waist.
"I'm going," Yize said suddenly, his voice firm. "Whether you like it or not. I felt we had abandoned the younger people like that. Grow up, Zichen."
His words struck like a hammer blow. I held my breath, waiting.
Zichen didn't hesitate. "You grow up, Yize. This was our decision, so do not pretend you disagree with this. You just keep looping the room you're building."
I imagined Yize turning away, fists clenched, jaw tight. Zichen remained steadfast, unwavering, and determined.
I tilted my head back against the cool, hard surface of the wall, feeling the weight of the world press down on me. As I closed my eyes, I allowed the tension coursing through my body to slowly dissolve, seeping into my bones like an unwelcome chill. Each breath became a deliberate attempt to release the tightness gripping my chest, while the quiet surroundings enveloped me in a moment of fragile peace.
As I drifted into the embrace of sleep, the last sound that washed over me was the faint echo of footsteps gradually receding into the distance, each step a whisper of departure.
Alongside that sound, Yize's final words floated in the air, their lingering quality wrapping around me like tendrils of smoke, both haunting and ephemeral, refusing to fade away completely.
It wasn't just about Tianyi anymore. It was about trust, about the choices we made when the world stopped making sense. Maybe Yize was right. Maybe we had left too much behind—people, places, pieces of ourselves.