Noen staggered back the way he had come.
His legs moved, but he did not feel them. The world around him existed only as blurred shapes and broken sound.
Then he saw her.
Lyra lay where Kairn had left her. Motionless. Still.
Noen dropped to his knees beside her.
His trembling hands found hers. She was already colder than she should have been.
He gently pulled her closer and pressed his ear to her chest.
Nothing.
No heartbeat. No breath.
For a moment his mind rejected it. His body didn't.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him as if he could force warmth back into her, as if the embrace alone could undo what had been taken.
He said nothing.
Only a broken, silent breath escaping his chest again and again as his whole body began to shake.
Then the sound came.
A raw, unfiltered cry of loss ripped from him and tore through the narrow alley.
He threw his head back, his mouth open toward the sky, his entire being pouring into that single, wordless scream.
In the corner of his burning vision, something caught his eye.
A figure stood on a distant rooftop.
An old man.
He had seen everything.
Noen's scream faltered. His gaze locked onto him.
The man turned away — slowly, without hesitation — and disappeared behind the edge of the roof.
Noen did not move.
He only stared at the place where the old man had been… long after he was gone.