Light slipped quietly through the curtain.
Not bright enough to wake someone instantly, but enough to soften the room and push away the last traces of night.
Caelum's eyes opened slowly.
He didn't move at first.
Just lay there, staring at nothing in particular while his mind caught up.
For a second, everything felt normal.
Then he turned his head.
And froze.
Amoriel was right there.
Close.
Closer than he remembered.
Her hair had fallen slightly forward, a few strands resting near his shoulder. Her breathing was slow, steady, completely undisturbed.
He blinked once.
Twice.
"…Right."
The memory came back all at once.
He sat up immediately.
Too fast.
The mattress shifted slightly beneath him.
"…This is bad."
He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a quiet breath before forcing himself to calm down.
Nothing happened.
That was the important part.
He glanced at her again.
Still asleep.
Unbothered.
"…Of course you are."
He swung his legs off the bed and stood up, stretching his arms lightly as he tried to shake off the lingering awkwardness.
Morning.
School.
Routine.
That helped.
He reached for his things, moving quietly so he wouldn't wake her.
Then—
A sound.
Soft at first.
Then clearer.
A vibration.
He paused.
"…My phone?"
For a second, he looked around, confused.
"I didn't bring it yesterday…"
He frowned.
"…Wait."
Right.
He had.
He just hadn't used it.
"…That's on me."
The sound came again.
From somewhere nearby.
He followed it, spotting his phone near the edge of the table in his room.
He picked it up and glanced at the screen.
A message.
His eyes focused.
Then narrowed slightly.
"…Lyra?"
That was unexpected.
He opened it.
Short.
Simple.
She said she was coming.
No explanation.
No context.
Just that.
"…Why."
He stared at the screen for another second before lowering it slowly.
"…This is not good timing."
He looked around the room.
Then at the door.
Then back at the bed.
Amoriel was still there.
Sleeping.
Like nothing was wrong.
"…Yeah. Definitely not good timing."
He moved quickly after that.
Grabbing what he needed, heading out of the room without wasting another second.
"I'll fix this later," he muttered to himself as he disappeared down the hallway.
—
The room went quiet again.
For a while, nothing moved.
Then—
Amoriel shifted slightly.
Her eyes opened halfway.
Slow.
Unfocused.
"…Morning."
Her voice was soft, still caught between sleep and awareness.
She sat up gradually, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
The room felt different.
Quieter than before.
She looked around.
"…He is gone."
A simple observation.
She didn't question it.
Instead, she stood up from the bed, her movements slower than usual.
Not tired.
Just… adjusting.
Then—
A sound.
Faint.
Unfamiliar.
She paused.
"…What is that."
It came again.
A small vibration.
She followed it, her gaze scanning the room until it landed on the object in her hand.
Rectangular.
Smooth.
Dark screen.
"…This."
She picked it up carefully, turning it slightly.
"I have seen this before."
During the walk yesterday.
Many people had them.
Used them.
Looked at them often.
She tapped the surface lightly.
The screen lit up.
Amoriel blinked once.
"…It responds."
Her eyes focused.
There were symbols.
Words.
And—
A name.
Lyra.
She tilted her head slightly.
"…Message."
She tapped again.
The screen changed.
More text.
More options.
"…This is complex."
She didn't hesitate long.
Just touched what seemed right.
The screen shifted again.
A different section.
Images.
"…Oh."
She held the device up slightly, watching as her reflection appeared faintly on the surface.
"…It can capture."
She adjusted her grip.
Then, without much thought—
Tapped.
A soft click.
She looked at the result.
A photo.
Of herself.
Slightly off-center.
Hair unarranged.
Expression neutral.
She studied it for a moment.
"…Inaccurate."
She tried again.
Another click.
This time closer.
Still not quite right.
"…This is difficult."
She continued anyway.
Taking another.
And another.
Each one a little different.
None of them perfect.
But she didn't seem bothered.
"…This will be useful."
She lowered the phone slightly, looking at the screen with quiet focus.
Unaware of how it might look from the outside.
Or who the message was from.
Or what would happen next.
For now—
It was simply something new to understand.