The room was quiet, as always. Shadows slipped along the stone walls, murmuring low and soft like a lullaby meant for no one. Azriel sat at the edge of the bed, his gloves discarded beside him, long fingers curled loosely around the handle of a half empty mug. The tea had gone cold an hour ago.

Sleep hadn't come. It rarely did.

His leathers creaked faintly as he stood, stretching just enough to shake off the stiffness in his wings. The night air called to him, cool and open, unburdened by walls and memory. He stepped toward the balcony doors and pushed them open with a breath.

The world outside was still.

Velaris unfolded beneath him like a dream pressed into stone and starlight. The Sidra River gleamed silver as it carved its path through the city, reflecting lanterns that flickered like fireflies along the bridges. Towers rose tall and graceful in the distance, their spires catching the glow of the stars, and far off in the Rainbow, warm light still spilled from studio windows, the faint sound of laughter carried on the breeze.

The sky was vast and clear, a deep navy velvet scattered with constellations he’d memorized long ago, each one sharp and eternal above the sleeping city. From this height, Velaris looked untouched, like nothing cruel had ever dared lay a hand on it. He knew better.

A breeze tugged at his hair, tousling it further as he leaned against the balcony rail. Shadows drifted lazily around his boots but didn’t cling. Not tonight. Not with her there.

She sat on the opposite end of the balcony bench, a blanket draped over her shoulders, her knees pulled to her chest. Her own mug was untouched beside her. She hadn’t turned when he entered, but he knew she’d sensed him, had probably known he’d come out eventually.

Azriel didn’t speak right away. He rarely did. He watched her in the dim light, the soft glow of the stars catching in her eyes, in the loose strands of her hair. He knew the shape of her silences better than most people’s words.

She shifted slightly, just enough to glance at him over her shoulder.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said softly.

Azriel’s voice was quiet, low. “Me either.”

A pause. She looked back out at the city, and after a moment, so did he.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she murmured. “But if you stay… stay because you want to.”

The shadows curled up beside his feet like smoke settling into the stone. Azriel didn’t move away. He didn’t go back inside.

Instead, he sat down beside her, close, but not too close, and placed his mug beside hers on the rail.

“I do,” he said.

And for the first time that night, the stars above seemed just a little closer.