The call came softly.
Not through a siren, not through the system, but through the small device Ash kept beside his pillow. Its screen pulsed with the emblem of the Guild, pale blue against the dark. He silenced it immediately, careful not to wake the others.
Lunaria was seated near the window, knees drawn to his chest, watching the city. Moonlight threaded through his loose silver hair, catching in strands like frost. He did not turn when Ash rose.
"You are being summoned," Lunaria said.
Ash paused. "You already knew."
"I heard the frequency shift."
Ash smiled faintly. "Sometimes I forget how much you notice."
"You always forget," Lunaria replied calmly.
Ash crossed the room. "Guild Master this late usually means trouble."
"Does it frighten you?"
Ash considered. "It doesn't frighten me. It… weighs."
Lunaria stood. "Then you should go. We do not abandon burdens."
Ash hesitated, then nodded. "I'll come back as soon as I can."
Lunaria reached out and adjusted the collar of Ash's jacket with delicate fingers. "Return without damage."
Ash laughed under his breath. "You're worse than Juno."
"I am efficient."
Ash lingered, eyes searching Lunaria's face as if trying to memorize it. Then he turned and left.
The door closed.
Silence followed.
Not emptiness—never that. The house still held breath, warmth, life. Kael slept across one couch, arms thrown wide as if claiming territory even in dreams. Riven lay curled on the other, silver lashes resting against pale skin, expression unguarded.
Only Juno remained awake.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, absently shuffling a deck of game cards. "They always leave at strange hours."
"They leave when they are called," Lunaria replied.
"And you?"
"I remain."
Juno looked up. "Because you choose to?"
"Yes."
Juno smiled faintly. "I like that."
They chose a quiet game—one of memory and pattern. The cards whispered against the floor. The city beyond the windows murmured in distant rhythms.
Juno lost the first round.
"You misremembered," Lunaria said gently.
"I got distracted," Juno admitted. "You have a way of… unsettling the room."
"That is not my intention."
"I know," Juno said. "You just exist differently."
They played again.
Juno won.
Lunaria inclined his head. "Well executed."
Juno laughed. "You sound like a system prompt."
"Correction acknowledged."
They continued.
Minutes softened into something fluid. The tension of battles, of ranks and dungeons, dissolved into quiet. Here, there was no threat level. No urgency. Only two figures beneath lamplight.
"You don't rest," Juno said suddenly.
"I rest between actions."
"That's not rest."
Lunaria considered. "Then define it."
"Stopping," Juno replied. "Not preparing for the next thing."
Lunaria's fingers paused over a card. "I do not know how."
"You could learn."
"Learning requires stillness."
"Exactly."
Lunaria exhaled slowly.
They played another round.
This time, Lunaria's movements slowed. His blinks lingered. The precision in his posture softened, shoulders easing. Fatigue seeped through him, subtle but undeniable.
Juno noticed.
"You're tired," he murmured.
"I am… diminished."
"That's worse."
Lunaria smiled faintly. "Your vocabulary is inefficient."
"And yours is cruel to yourself."
Lunaria's gaze drifted. "I am built for motion."
"You're built for living."
Lunaria did not answer.
Juno shifted closer. "You can lean."
Lunaria hesitated.
Then allowed it.
He lowered himself beside Juno, head resting lightly against his thigh. His breath slowed. The tension that always lived beneath his skin loosened.
"This position is… acceptable," Lunaria murmured.
Juno froze.
His heartbeat thundered.
He did not move.
Outside, a train passed, light streaking across glass. Inside, time held still.
"You don't have to watch everything," Juno whispered. "We're here."
Lunaria's lashes fluttered. "I forget that."
Juno glanced at Kael and Riven. Both slept, unaware.
His hand hovered.
Then gently settled atop Lunaria's hair.
It was softer than he expected.
"Sleep," Juno said quietly.
Lunaria did.
Not as a hunter.
Not as a blade.
Just as himself.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
Juno remained still, breathing carefully, afraid that movement might fracture the fragile peace. He watched the slow rise and fall of Lunaria's chest. The way moonlight traced his profile. The way even in rest, he seemed unreal.
Juno realized something then.
That Lunaria did not frighten people because he was powerful.
He frightened them because he was gentle.
Because gentleness that strong felt impossible.
The door did not open.
Ash did not return yet.
The house remained in quiet suspension.
And in that space, something rooted itself—soft, unspoken, waiting.