The guest chamber inside Valon Castle was quiet in a way the garden had not been. The weight of the funeral still lingered, but here it settled into something more contained, less exposed. Evening light filtered through tall windows, soft and muted, brushing the stone walls in pale gold.
A low table stood between them with two cups of tea, steam rising slowly into the still air.
Noir rested beside Noel on the sofa in her wolf pup form, small and compact, tail wrapped near her body. She looked half-asleep, though the faint movement of her ears suggested she was listening to everything.
Noel held his cup loosely, gaze lowered for a moment before lifting again. Across from him, Director Daemar sat upright, hands folded calmly, his expression measured but not distant.
"I see…" Daemar said after a pause. "You've endured more than most would in such a short span of time."
