Dorm Building
The dorm was quiet, but no one was sleeping.
Derek lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His staff leaned against the wall, its crystals dim in the darkness. Outside, the wind moved through the trees, soft and restless, like it couldn't decide where to go. His mind was the same—circling, circling, never landing.
He'd watched the footage. He knew the Silver Falcons' patterns. He'd trained until his arms shook and his ghosts flickered from exhaustion. But still, the doubt gnawed at him.
What if he froze? What if his ghosts didn't listen? What if he let the team down?
"You're thinking too loud."
Dr. Blackwood materialized beside the bed, his translucent form faint in the moonlight. He sat on the edge of the mattress like he used to do when he was alive, back when he had weight and warmth and a heartbeat.
Derek didn't look at him. "I'm not thinking anything."
