He was shivering violently, arms crossed over his bare chest, dressed in nothing but thin cotton briefs that clung to him with pitiful modesty. The wind bit at him, tugging at his damp hair and reddening his skin. His eyes, still blind without the aid of his magical object, stared blankly ahead—but he knew the door was there. He felt it, somehow. The threshold hummed with residual energy.

“Good, you’re awake,” Trisal said, voice casual, almost bored, as we approached.

Hamilton flinched at the sound, turning so fast he nearly lost his balance. His feet danced against the cold ground, trying to find warmth that didn’t exist. But despite the instinct to flee, he stayed. His body trembled, but his voice was steady. “I felt everything,” he said through clenched teeth, each word a puff of steam.

“You can go now,” Trisal replied, his amusement thinly veiled.

Hamilton didn’t move. He was waiting—for permission, for mercy, for something. But Trisal took his time, fingers lazily rolling his marble between knuckles.

“My sister. Did you at least find her?” Hamilton asked, voice cracking as he tried to sound composed.

Trisal finally flicked the marble toward the door, and the illusion peeled away like smoke. Hamilton lunged forward, but the door remained locked. He pressed against it, desperate.

“Let me in,” he demanded.

“We’ve helped you enough,” Trisal said, his tone sharp now, the humor gone.

I stepped forward. “Let him in.”

Trisal scoffed. “Why should I? He’s the one who bolted.”

“The room was on fire,” Hamilton snapped, his voice rising with frustration.

“…And?” Trisal replied, utterly unmoved.

I turned to him. “What is he talking about?”

“It’s nothing,” Trisal said with a shrug. “Just a security measure.”

Hamilton’s voice grew louder, more urgent. “When I woke up, everything was engulfed in flames. I thought I was going to die. I ran. But once I got outside, I realized it wasn’t real. The fire was an illusion. And the door shut before I could get back in.”

I stared at Trisal, disbelief curdling into disappointment. “Why would you—”

“He’s alive, ain’t he?” Trisal interrupted, already walking toward the door.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I pushed—gently, but firmly—until Trisal relented and unlocked the door. Hamilton stumbled inside, his body sagging with relief as the warmth enveloped him.

Trisal followed, slamming the door behind us. “Get your shit, and get it fast,” he barked, standing rigid near the entrance.

Hamilton didn’t respond. He moved toward the pile of clothes we’d left for him, hands fumbling with the fabric as he dressed. His fingers were stiff, his movements slow. I watched him, but my attention drifted to Trisal.

He wasn’t looking at us. His gaze wandered the room, lingering on the ruined couch, the scattered laundry, the crusted takeout containers. Things he’d ignored for weeks. Now, he couldn’t stop staring. His jaw tightened. His nostrils flared. Embarrassment? Shame? It wasn’t the presence of a human that unsettled him—it was being seen by one.

“Did you find her?” Hamilton asked again, quieter this time.

“No. But we know she’s on Earth,” I said, turning back to him.

“That’s not good enough.”

“She’ll be easier to find now. Searching the train would’ve been endless.”

“Not without my watch.”

“Can’t you build another?”

Hamilton shook his head. “It took me nearly seven months to sculpt the first. It’s not something I can recreate overnight.”

Trisal’s marble reappeared in his hand, glowing faintly. “We aren’t going on another hunt,” he said, voice low and final.

I saw it in his eyes—had I not been here, Hamilton would already be gone. I stepped closer to the boy, a silent shield, but I knew it wouldn’t last.

“Trisal, his sister—”

“No,” he snapped. “I told you.”

Hamilton had finished dressing, but the cold still clung to him. He stepped forward, past me, facing Trisal directly.

“You broke my object. How will you make up for it?”

Trisal’s grin was sharp and cruel. “You’re out of your damn mind. Get out of my domain before I summon actual fire.”

“Tristan! Trisal, don’t!” I shouted, startled by the threat.

Hamilton didn’t flinch. “It’s fine, Black Angel. He can’t hurt me without a reason. It's in his contract. But I’ll go.”

“Yeah, you will,” Trisal muttered.

A flash of purple light swallowed Hamilton whole, and he was gone.

I turned to Trisal, heart pounding. “Where did you send him?”

He didn’t answer. Not then. Not for the rest of the morning.