The candle had burned low, wax pooling at its base, flickering shadows stretching long across the stone walls of the library. Raelis sat hunched over a table, papers and tomes scattered in disarray, ink smudging the side of his hand. He muttered under his breath, brow furrowed in deep concentration, eyes skimming lines of text that blurred together from exhaustion.

The door creaked open, but he didn’t look up at first, too lost in whatever problem had taken root in his mind. It wasn’t until the heavy rustle of armor and the familiar weight of your presence settled nearby that he finally lifted his gaze.

You stood there, scrolls in hand—the ones he had requested hours ago, though he barely remembered asking.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. “Just leave them here,” he said, voice laced with a slight irritated exhaustion.

You placed the scrolls down carefully, the sound barely a whisper against the wooden table. For a moment, there was only the soft crackling of the candle and the distant echo of footsteps down the hall.

Then, just as you turned to leave, his voice came again, softer this time.

“…Thank you.”

It was almost an afterthought, but the way he said it—like he meant it, like he noticed you.