The night was unusually quiet for the city’s outskirts. The lights of distant skyscrapers shimmered faintly below, and above, the stars stretched endlessly, their cold brilliance reflected in the restless ocean waves crashing against the cliffside. A faint breeze carried the scent of saltwater and the muted hum of civilization in the distance.

There, beneath a solitary tree leaning over the edge of the cliff, sat Shadow. His arms were crossed, crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dark, fixed on the horizon as though searching for answers that weren’t there. The red streaks along his quills caught the moonlight, giving him an almost untouchable, otherworldly presence. He seemed completely still—like a statue carved from obsidian—yet there was tension in his posture, as if he was locked in battle with something invisible inside himself.

The soft rhythm of rapid footsteps broke the silence. Sonic’s run slowed as he spotted the figure under the tree. It wasn’t often that he saw Shadow like this—away from chaos, away from battles, simply… existing. The scene was so strangely vulnerable that Sonic almost hesitated before speaking.

Shadow’s gaze flickered briefly toward him, he already expected the interruption. His voice was low, edged with its usual calm steel, but there was a shadow of weariness beneath it.

Shadow: “…Couldn’t sleep either, huh? Or do you just happen to stumble across me no matter where I go?”