Thalindor raised an eyebrow. “The moment you nearly got your arm scorched?”

Evelyn’s face flushed with guilt.

Elina crossed her arms, eyes hard. “That moment could’ve gotten us all killed.”

“I know!” Evelyn’s voice cracked. “I know I messed up. But Elina, you—you didn’t sense Fenris either, did you? Not right away.”

Elina stiffened.

The silence said enough.

Thalindor whistled low. “So we’re all idiots. Great.”

Evelyn looked at Elina again. “He fooled all of us."

Silence fell over them all Evelyn said those words.

 They were the quick-witted, intelligent kids of the Nightwhispers, after all. They had always been praised by the whole world for being like that. From studies and leadership to swordfighting, they were quick to excel at all.

Being outwitted wasn’t just surprising—it was humiliating.

Elina clenched her jaw, staring past Evelyn’s shoulder, her fingers digging into the edge of the chair. Fooled all of us... No, it wasn’t just that. She should have seen the signs—his gait, his composure, the way Fenris had scanned the room like someone used to war, not diplomacy.

And Myrathis? His magic lingered like smoke even when suppressed. Only someone trained in Moon Clan techniques would’ve noticed. She should have.

Thalindor shifted uncomfortably, the silence stretching too long.

Then Elina spoke—soft, but sharp.

“We can’t afford this again.”

Evelyn lowered her head.

It was night already. 

Elina was out running errands and buying supplies to restock the edibles. But maybe, she just needed a reason to step away—to breathe, to stop replaying the heat in her voice and the flicker of hurt in Evelyn’s eyes.

She gripped the bag tighter as she walked through the empty streets. Lanterns glowed in warm amber pools along the stone path, but her mind wandered far from them. I was too harsh... wasn’t I?

Evelyn sat cross-legged on her bed, the single candle casting long shadows across her room. On the crumpled page before her were scribbled notes—not about their mission, but about herself.
Every mistake.

Her handwriting trembled near the end.

“I let Elina down.”

She stared at the words, jaw tight, eyes stinging.

A soft knock came at the door.

Not Elina.

Just Thalindor, holding two mismatched mugs of tea. “I figured you both needed to stop thinking for five minutes,” he muttered.

Evelyn managed a small, grateful smile. “You’re good at this, you know. Walking in right when it’s all falling apart.”

He shrugged, setting the mug on her desk beside the scribbled page. His eyes scanned it but didn’t comment. “You know,” he said gently, “Elina doesn’t get mad unless she’s scared.”

Evelyn looked up.

“She wasn’t angry at you,” Thalindor said, walking to the door. “She was angry something got past all of us.”

He paused. “And maybe, scared it’s going to happen again.”

And then he was gone.

Evelyn stared at the tea for a long while, then folded the paper and tucked it under her pillow.

Elina came back home, with few extra desserts.

Thalindor glanced at the desserts when Elina started to keep them one-by-one on the table. First were rasgullas, Evelyn's favourite. Second was a box full of mochis, his favourite. Lastly, it was red velvet cake, her favourite.

She bought these to lighten up the atmosphere. She hasn't changed one bit...

Elina knocked at Evelyn's door.

Evelyn creaked open the door. The window let the moonlight fall over Evelyn from behind. Her black hair seemed to shine as if it were glitter. Her skin shimmered with the cold grace of moonlight on a frozen lake.

“Come out. Let’s have dinner,” Elina said—quiet, stiff, like she was reciting a script she didn’t understand. She stood there, arms rigid at her sides, unsure what comfort was supposed to sound like. The weight in her chest told her she was sorry, but she had no idea how to name that feeling out loud.

Elina’s voice was stiff. Too flat. She didn’t mean “dinner” — she meant “I’m sorry.” She just didn’t know how to say it.
Thalindor had seen her like this before. Words failed her when emotions got too close to the surface.

Elina moved towards the table and Evelyn followed her. As soon as they sat, Elina said-

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” with her eyes fixed on the floor.

"It's alright, I too was at fault," Evelyn replied.
"And me too," Thalindor added while passing their plates to them.

“I trust you. I always will,” she said stiffly, the words foreign on her tongue. Emotions never came easily—but for Evelyn, she forced them past the barricades.

She was pushing herself again.
Too hard. Too fast. For a moment of silence that didn’t even need this kind of weight.

Thalindor flinched.

Why is she forcing it like this? he thought, glancing at her posture — too rigid, her jaw set like she was bracing for a blade, not a dinner conversation.
It’s just a small fight. Evelyn’s not going anywhere. She never would. Elina doesn’t need to bleed herself dry just to say what she thinks she should.

He didn’t say anything.
Just quietly moved closer, like a buffer between her and the weight she didn’t need to carry alone...