The lighthouse settled into a quiet that felt earned rather than empty.
Noel stood near the narrow window, hands resting on the cold stone, watching the sea stretch between broken silhouettes of islands. Now that the shock had passed, the weight of everything Theo had revealed pressed in more heavily. Not panic—something worse. Options. Too many of them, all carrying consequences.
Behind him, Theo sat wrapped in a blanket Noel had pulled from his pouch, both hands around a cup of water. Noir lingered close to Noel's boots, ears twitching, eyes never fully at rest.
Noel broke the silence first.
"I'm not going straight for the center," he said, voice low and steady. "Not yet. If they're scattered the way you described, then my priority is getting everyone back together. Selene, Elyra, Charlotte—Marcus especially. I won't gamble their lives on speed."
Theo nodded slowly, as if he'd expected that answer.
