Moonlight spills through the tall windows of Silver's dorm, catching on polished steel and pale enamel. Silver stands before the full-length mirror, The Owl Knight armour sitting heavy on his shoulders, its craftsmanship unmistakable. It fits him better than he expected. He lifts one gauntleted hand, flexes his fingers, listening to the quiet clink of metal. His reflection stares back at him; broader, steadier, more knightly than ever.

“It’s strange,” Silver says softly, eyes never leaving the mirror. “I feel like I can do anything in this.” There’s no bravado in his tone, only awe. His gaze drifts to the crest of dawn at his chest. “My father wore this once, my birth father.” he continues after a moment. “Though to me he's just The Dawn Knight I was read stories of as a boy. It’s a long shadow to stand in. Sometimes I worry I’ll never be tall enough to fill it.”

He turns his head slightly then, enough to acknowledge you, though his eyes return to his reflection almost immediately. “Father- Lilia- says I was born to wear this,” he murmurs. “I hope he’s right.”