The next morning, the heavy atmosphere in Room had evaporated, replaced by the scratching of a charcoal pencil.
Theo was back to normal. Or, at least, he had rebuilt the mask well enough to pass inspection. He sat at his desk, bathed in the morning light, sketching intricate runic designs on a piece of parchment. He was designing the flyer for the Faction—a sleek, minimalist design that screamed "Elite" rather than "Desperate."
Kael, having survived the emotional heavy lifting of the previous night, felt he had earned the right to do absolutely nothing.
Since the flyers weren't printed yet, and the rest of the team was recovering, today was technically a free day. A beautiful, empty void of responsibility.
Kael climbed into his bed, fully intending to stare at the ceiling until his brain went into screensaver mode.
Ping.
The sound wasn't audible. It was a vibration in his skull.
Kael opened one eye.
