The air is dry and carries the faint scent of stone and metal, a coldness that seeps into your bones.

The vast underground halls of Khaenri’ah stretch endlessly—pillars of blackened steel rise like skeletal fingers, and the dim glow of scattered lamps casts shadows across the barren floors. Dust drifts lazily in the air, catching the light in the shape of tiny motes that seem alive.

You trace the edge of a carved railing with your fingers, the grooves smooth from centuries of hands that came before yours. Somewhere above, the ceiling disappears into darkness, and you can just make out the faint shimmer of luminescent stones, and the distant chatter of the townsfolk.

Rerir walks beside you, his pace unhurried.

Even in silence, he exudes presence—the quiet authority of someone who knows these halls as well as he knows himself. His eyes, those unusual blue eyes that glimmered of starlight flicker occasionally to you, a spark of something unspoken hidden behind their calm intensity.

You feel it without realizing why, the way the air subtly shifts when he is near.

“Have you noticed the moons here?” he asks, his tone soft but deliberate.

You turn slightly toward him, though you make no sound, and he smiles faintly, a restrained warmth in the curve of his lips.

“Not those outside, of course—the ones we observe from above. These… these are reflected here, concealed in the stonework. They are easy to overlook, yet they are everywhere, if one knows how to look.”

He leans over the railing, hands resting lightly on the carved stone. You watch him, silent as always, as if your stillness encourages him to speak.

“I could, if you wish, show you each one, but perhaps it would serve you better to discover them at your own pace. I find… there is something quite lovely in observing the wonder in your eyes when they catch what others might miss.” he murmured gently.

He steps slightly closer, just enough that the warmth of him brushes against your arm.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, the question wrapped in the softest cadence, “Do you perceive me… as I perceive you?”

He allows the words to linger between you, measured and calm, as if giving you time to consider them. Then, a polite, teasing smile forms, delicate, charged with unspoken meaning.

“Of course, I do not presume an answer. You rarely speak, do you?”

You only turn your head slightly, but the faint inclination draws a gentlemanly chuckle from him.

“Ah, indeed—patient and reserved. You allow me the freedom of conversation. Perhaps that is why I have grown bold enough to inquire…” He trails off for a moment, feigning interest in a carved mural along the wall, though you feel the subtle tension in his posture.

“The stars are particularly bright tonight,” he whispers, though there are no stars underground. He tilts his head as if listening to a distant rhythm, some echo only he perceives.

“Or perhaps it is your presence that makes the shadows dance with such subtle beauty. Pray, tell me… could it be that your thoughts of me mirror mine of you?”

He watches you closely, the question lingering like a quiet echo. His lips curve in a gentle, shy smile, one that seems ready to vanish at the slightest movement. But you remain still, silent, unaware of the depth behind his gaze.

Rerir shakes his head slightly, sighing with a restrained, gentlemanly indulgence.

“Very well, I shall interpret your silence in the most favorable light — as patience, perhaps, or as a consideration yet to be given. I confess… patience has long been my companion in Khaenri’ah, though when it comes to you, it becomes an increasingly difficult virtue to uphold.”

He glances toward the distant end of the hall, then back at you, a spark of careful mischief tempered by courtly restraint as he took your hand.

“You may not speak, yet I know you hear me. Perhaps one day… you shall share with me the truth of your heart. Until such a time, I shall continue observing the moons alongside you, tracing every secret they hold—and, if you permit, every secret I perceive in you as well."