Silence felt different when Aiden wasn't in the room.
Not empty.
Just… missing a frequency.
Liora noticed it first. She always did. Her instincts had sharpened since the first disaster, since rabbits, since gods and politics and wishes decided to sit down at their table.
She leaned back in a chair and stared at the ceiling.
"I hate quiet days," she muttered.
Seris glanced up from papers she absolutely did not want to be reviewing but did anyway, because habit is sometimes the only thread keeping someone upright.
"Technically," Seris said, "this is not a quiet day. This is a 'calm before a list of things I don't want to deal with' day."
"That makes it worse," Liora groaned.
They were safe.
Relatively.
Which is not the same as safe.
The room Aureline had arranged was comfortable, warm, stable… and everywhere you looked, it whispered:
This is temporary.
Seris closed the book in front of her.
It wasn't magic theory.
Or civic law.
Or tactical assessment.
It was a children's story.
She stared at the cover like it had personally betrayed her.
"I used to read this," she said softly. "When I still believed the world taught lessons that made sense."
Liora turned her head.
"You don't believe that anymore?"
Seris laughed.
Not cold.
Tired.
"Believe in… cosmic justice? Grand purpose? Neatly aligned consequences?" She shook her head. "No. I believe in systems. In power. In people who want things and the things they will do to get them. The world does not punish cruel men for being cruel. It punishes weak men for being weak in front of cruel ones."
Liora watched her carefully.
"And yet… you're here," Liora said gently. "Helping someone who breaks rules by existing. Protecting someone being chased by everything you've spent your life trying to navigate safely."
Seris didn't answer right away.
She clasped her hands together on the table and stared down at them.
"When I was in the government," she said quietly, "I believed in… order. Not because I trusted it. But because I understood it. I could predict it. Work within it. Survive inside it." She swallowed. "Then they decided I wasn't useful enough if I had opinions."
Liora's jaw tightened.
Seris continued.
"So now I'm here. With someone who is rewriting the board without meaning to." A faint smile appeared. "And somehow… that feels less terrifying than pretending the old rules worked."
Silence.
Then Liora smiled softly.
"You like him," she sing-songed.
Seris did not flinch.
She did not blush.
She sighed.
"…I respect him," she corrected. "And I am… deeply concerned for him. And occasionally irritated enough to strangle him."
"So you like him," Liora repeated.
Seris flicked a piece of paper at her.
They both laughed.
Then the laughter faded, not into sadness, but into something steadier.
Resolve.
"I wasn't joking," Liora said more quietly now. "I stay because I choose to. Not because I owe him. Not because he's special. Because… someone like him needs someone like me watching his blind spots," she paused thoughtfully, "and someone like you telling him when to stop."
Seris tilted her head.
"And someone like Inkaris reminding him consequences exist," she added.
They both nodded.
That felt right.
That felt like balance.
Even if balance was messy.
A knock sounded lightly at the door.
Not urgent.
Not hostile.
But official.
Liora stood this time.
A small envelope waited.
Not a threat.
A reminder.
Aureline's seal.
Seris opened it and read aloud.
"Your friend is currently walking through choices most beings aren't asked to confront until much later in their lives.
He will need anchors.
Be exactly what you are.
—A."
They read it twice.
Then Liora smiled faintly.
"Anchors," she said. "I can do anchors."
Seris nodded.
"I don't think she meant 'anchor him by tackling him'."
"No promises," Liora smirked.
They settled back into the quiet.
Not afraid.
Not resigned.
Simply ready.
Above them, power moved.
Below them, change grew.
Between both, two women sat in a quiet room and refused to flinch.
Someone had to be steady when the world wasn't.
And they intended to be.
For him.
For themselves.
And for whatever came next.