Noel didn't linger.
Sitting and thinking had its place, but this island wasn't going to give him answers out of courtesy. Whatever was watching him clearly had no interest in approaching first—and that alone told him more than silence ever could.
He rose from the sand, brushing the fine, glassy grains from his coat, and turned inland.
"Alright," he said aloud, voice rough but steady, more grounded than he felt. "If you're going to stare at me, at least have the decency to do it from somewhere interesting."
Noir's presence shifted at his back, shadow stretching and tightening like a cloak settling on his shoulders.
'You're heading toward the highest concentration,' she noted. 'Mana density rises that way. Not sharply. More like… a slow pressure change. Like walking uphill without realizing it until your legs start burning.'
"Yeah," Noel muttered, already moving. "I feel it too. Like the island's pulling its thoughts inward."
The terrain changed as he walked.
