But the days that followed tested every bond. Hunger gnawed at their bellies with growing ferocity; three long sunrises came and went without any luck. Scraps vanished from the alleys, kind faces shut their doors, and even the river's reeds held nothing but bitter roots. Magi's smile faded, Rob grew silent, and Noctis watched shadows lengthen across the empty village lanes.
On the fourth dusk, stomachs twisted and spirits drained, the trio gathered again beneath the willow's drooping branches. Their hope was frayed, their words clipped and thin.
"We can't last another night like this," Magi rasped, her voice rough and hollow. "We need a real plan."
Rob's jaw clenched as he eyed the darkening sky. "The apothecary's storeroom. If we don't get something there, we're done."
This new plan felt desperate—not just for food, but for a future together. Each promise that night was sharp, urgent, and edged with exhaustion.
The bitter night pressed heavy, its air thick with the tang of smoke and the coppery scent of danger. Noctis's breath came quick and shallow as he crept through the back door of the apothecary—his hands shaking, boots silent on splintered wood, the hush broken only by his fluttering pulse. He felt the bundle of bread and medicine, a desperate weight in his arms.
From the alley outside, Rob's voice cracked through the darkness, trembling with isolation. "Don't mess this up. Just grab it and go." His words felt more like orders than comfort. When Noctis glanced out, he caught the loneliness stamped on Rob's face—a hunger not only for food but for belonging, twisted now by desperation.
Magi waited farther down the lane, but even from a distance, Noctis recognized the cold tension in her stance. She barely looked at him; her eyes darted instead to the apothecary's guard, the jittery man who sometimes traded scraps for secrets. She'd already weighed Noctis's worth against her need to survive, her resolve hard as stone.
Suddenly shouts shattered the stillness. "Thief! There—grab him!" Rough lantern light sliced through the gloom. Noctis bolted, boots skidding on broken glass, but hands caught his jacket, fingers digging like claws.
A ring of villagers formed, yelling for punishment. Noctis fought to stay upright, twisting to see Rob, who was being questioned by the older street boys—his would-be protectors, sharp-eyed and hungry themselves.
Rob raised his chin, voice breaking as he gave in. "Noctis stole it. He made me do it. I… I didn't want any part." Each word landed like a stone, stacking shame on top of fear.
Magi, pressed near the guard, held out her trembling palm; coins jingled and a stale roll traded for a single nod. In that instant, she looked straight at Noctis—not with malice, but an emptiness that chilled more than any blow. "I didn't see anything," she lied to a woman next to her, voice nearly lifeless.
Noctis felt the world fragment, emotion exploding—betrayal knifing deeper than bruises, grief roaring louder than any voice. He found his own, cracked and pleading: "Why? Rob—Magi—please, you promised—"
Rob's shoulders hunched, but his eyes stayed downcast, as if Noctis were already a ghost. Magi's jaw clenched and tears welled, but she closed her hand around the bread and turned away.
Fury and heartbreak collided in Noctis's chest. The mob pulled him through mud and broken crates, jeers and spittle sinking into his clothes. Panic snapped what little remained inside him. He felt every heartbeat as a wound, each breath a razor.
"No! Please! I did this for all of us—you promised!" The words fell to ash as the crowd surged.
Something inside him shattered. Maybe hope. Maybe trust. Maybe the part of him that still believed in gentleness.
With a tormented howl, Noctis ripped free from their grasp, knees scraping stone, arms flailing for balance. He barreled past Rob—who flinched back—and Magi, who squeezed her eyes shut. All he knew was escape, the darkness swallowing his sobs, blood and tears pelting his freezing cheeks.
He ran blindly, breath raw, haunted by every broken promise. Every bruise screamed with the agony of a soul collapsing inward. Humanity evaporated with every footfall—betrayal, hunger, humiliation stitching together a new, harsher armor beneath his skin.
Night swallowed Noctis whole. He was no longer the boy with kindness in his eyes, but something scraped thin and cold, cut loose from everything he thought he could trust.