Rael taught Akari how to read by lantern light.

She would tear pages from books left in the refuse pile behind the chapel and hide them in a rusted tin. They read beside a broken window in the east stairwell—the one no one used.

“Stories,” she whispered once, “are proof that someone cared enough to write them down.”

Akari learned to read silently. But when he finally spoke a line aloud, Rael squeezed his hand so tight it hurt.

“Good,” she said softly. “Good boy.”