The night fog slipped through the glass windows of the secret facility, painting ghostlike silhouettes across the polished walls. Tiflos ate a small meal in his room, his gaze fixed on the reflection of his crimson eyes in the window. Memories surged and broke over him like violent waves—his father's lifeless face, his brother's sobs, and the scavenging hands of the traitors who picked through their ruined home like vultures tearing at a carcass.
"You're still here?"
Noor's voice echoed behind him, sharp enough to make him jolt from his seat.
He turned. She stood at the doorway in a white training suit that contrasted starkly with her flowing black hair. Her silver eyes shimmered in the dim light like twin stars carved into a moonless sky.
"Don't you sleep?" he asked, trying—and failing—to hide the flicker of embarrassment, the subtle admiration tugging at him.
"Sleep is a luxury we don't deserve," she answered, her voice layered with exhaustion and defiance. "Come. There's something I want to show you."
Tiflos stood immediately—excited, though unsure why.
Noor walked ahead. He followed her into the winding corridors of the facility, where blue lights pulsed faintly like the heartbeat of the mountain itself. Their silence wasn't the cold kind born from distrust, but a quiet shared by two wounded souls who recognized the breakage in each other.
They entered the grand library. Noor guided him toward a deserted corner. His heartbeat quickened—not from fear, but anticipation.
Suddenly she stopped before a hidden door tucked between towering shelves. She pressed a barely noticeable corner of the bookshelf, and the door slid open silently, almost ominously.
Tiflos's cheeks warmed.
This… wasn't the kind of secret he imagined.
"The Forbidden Library," Noor whispered, as if her voice might awaken ancient specters. "This is where they keep the truths no one is meant to see."
His earlier expectations faded, replaced by awe—and a sting of disappointment he forced himself to ignore.
The room inside was small, packed with sagging shelves loaded with ancient manuscripts. Dust and the scent of old paper thickened the air. Noor motioned toward a worn shelf in the corner.
"This… is my people's history," she said softly.
Tiflos picked up a cracked, blue-bound manuscript. Inside were drawings of people with glowing blue eyes, dressed in white robes, walking through a mist-covered valley.
"People of the Mist," he read aloud. "They lived in the Vale of Spectra… and could see the energy around living beings."
He glanced at Noor—and saw tears shimmering at the edges of her eyes.
"You… Are you one of them?"
"I was," she corrected bitterly. "Before Cain and his men burned our valley to ashes."
And she told him everything. The midnight attack. Her mother hiding her in a cavern. The screams. The flames. The massacre she witnessed through trembling fingers.
Tiflos swallowed hard, cursing his earlier thoughts.
"Why? Why would they do that?"
"For our sacred plant," she whispered. "It only grows under moonlight. They wanted it to craft… strange drugs for enhancing visual abilities."
The ground seemed to shift beneath him. His beliefs cracked. His father—accused of working with Cain. This organization—the one that "saved" him—could be part of a monstrous machine.
"Why tell me this?" he asked, fighting the tremor in his voice.
"Because I saw the same confusion in your eyes," she said. "And because… I want you to escape. You and your brother are still innocent."
That struck deeper than anything else.
If it involved only him, he could endure it—even with a steel heart.
But Orion…
Could he save him?
Could he smuggle him out under the watch of Cain—a Golden-Eyed?
They left the Forbidden Library. Noor took Tiflos by the hand, leading him upward to the observatory dome at the top of the facility. The circular hall was dark except for the field of stars projected across the domed ceiling.
"This," Noor said, "is the only place where we can breathe."
Under the starry glow, Tiflos noticed a small scar on her hand.
"How did you get that?" he asked.
She stared at it as if remembering something long buried.
"That night… I fell on sharp rocks." Then her gaze lowered to his wrist. "And you? That scar?"
Tiflos touched the old mark.
"I was seven. I protected Orion from some idiots who bullied him. Fell on broken glass."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"So you've always protected him."
Then, more quietly:
"But now… Cain will tear him from you."
The words hit him like a blade.
Orion—isolated, angry, grieving—could slip into darkness.
"Anger is a dangerous road," Noor murmured. "It leads to places we never intend to go."
They walked again until they reached the armament wing—a hall shrouded beneath layers of blackout curtains. Through a small gap, Tiflos saw tables lined with weapons.
"What are these?" he whispered.
"Visual Firearms," she answered. "Short-range optical weapons that fire compressed needle-rounds strong enough to pierce diamond. Long-range versions exist, but they are rare… and expensive."
"How many secrets do these walls hide…?" he muttered.
His gaze then drifted to several glowing swords hanging behind reinforced glass.
"Those… are they special?"
Noor gave a small smile—a simple gesture that crashed into his chest with unexpected force.
"Yes. Each sword reacts to a specific visual ability," she explained. "But none ever reacted to mine."
Finally, she brought him to a secluded balcony at the far north of the facility. A transparent energy barrier protected the edge. Beyond it lay the dark mountains and endless valleys. For the first time in weeks, they breathed real air.
"No cameras here," Noor said softly. "Here… we can be ourselves."
They stared at the sky in silence.
After living underground, the world felt unreal.
"It feels like I've found an island in an ocean of lies," Tiflos whispered.
He meant it.
Though he had practiced saying something—anything—to a girl, this came out raw.
Noor flushed, silver eyes shimmering.
"Maybe… we can be islands for each other."
For the first time since his father's death…
Tiflos felt hope.
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