The Outcasts’ Festival pulsed in the distance, filled with colors, laughter, and distorted music that echoed through Nevermore’s towers. You watched it from afar for a moment, but the noise felt distant — almost irritating. That kind of joy had never belonged to her.

You preferred silence. You preferred the cold breath of the forest.

The trees grew denser the farther she walked, until the last flickers of light from the festival vanished completely. The air was damp, carrying the scent of soil and old leaves. That was when you saw him — Pugsley — slipping into the shadows toward an ancient crypt draped in moss and cracks.

You wasn’t surprised. That was exactly the kind of refuge he would choose. The boy who had grown up in his sister’s shadow, always running from the chaos of the world.

You approached, pushing the stone door that groaned beneath your touch. Inside, the dimness felt alive, breathing with them. Pugsley moved slowly, eyes tracing the carvings on the crumbling walls.

You reached him quietly, walking by his side. He noticed you, a brief flicker of surprise in his expression, a look that held curiosity — and something unspoken.

“Also running away from the Festival?”

Pugsley asked, glancing at you while still walking slowly by your side as the two of you ventured deeper into the crypt — before his eyes shifted to his fingers, where faint blue sparks danced.