Noel stirred first. The silence of the sanctuary pressed in, heavy and still, broken only by the faint drip of water somewhere in the distance. His body ached—muscles tight, ribs sore—but not enough to keep him from noticing the figure at his side.

Selene was asleep. Properly asleep, not the guarded half-rest she usually slipped into. Her head tilted slightly toward him, hair falling across her face, soft strands tracing her cheek. In this moment, she didn't look like the cold, untouchable girl everyone else saw. She looked human—peaceful.

Noel let out a quiet breath. 'Selene… you've carried too much alone, haven't you?' He thought back to what he knew: the cruelty of her mother, the hunger she'd endured, the years without warmth. No one had ever stayed long enough to break through that wall she built. No one, except him—and only because he already knew the truth, thanks to the damned novel.

His lips curved faintly, though there was no humor in it. 'You weren't born cold. You were forced to be.' He couldn't help but feel something sharp in his chest, something protective. Out of all the people here, Selene was the one he understood best. Not because she told him anything, but because he'd seen the pieces she tried to hide.

The lock of hair covering her face shifted slightly with her breathing. For a moment, Noel hesitated. Then, almost against his better judgment, he reached out and brushed it back, tucking it gently behind her ear.

Her face, free of shadow, looked calmer than he'd ever seen. 'You deserve to look like this all the time,' he thought.

Selene's lashes fluttered, a faint shift breaking the stillness. Her eyes opened slowly, cyan irises catching the dim glow of the sanctuary. The moment she realized Noel's hand was still hovering near her face, her cheeks ignited in color.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice flat but thinner than usual, betraying the rush of heat spreading across her skin.

Noel blinked, caught mid-gesture, and pulled his hand back. "...Sorry. Your hair was covering your face. I just moved it."

Her lips pressed into a firm line. She turned her head away, but not before he caught the sharp crimson painting her ears. "You shouldn't… do things like that without warning."

Noel let out a quiet chuckle, leaning back against the cold stone. "Fair enough. Still, it suits you better this way. You look… calmer."

Selene froze, heart kicking against her ribs. Calmer? No one had ever said something like that to her. She forced her expression to stay composed, but her hands tightened on her wand, a small tremor betraying her.

"Don't say things like that so easily," she muttered, eyes fixed stubbornly on the floor.

Noel tilted his head. "Easily? Trust me, it wasn't."

The silence stretched, heavier than before, until Selene finally shifted uncomfortably. "It's… morning," she said, voice stiff. "You were asleep for a while. How do you feel?"

"Better," Noel admitted, rolling his shoulders with a faint wince. "Sore, but better. Guess your lap isn't the worst pillow."

Her blush deepened instantly, and she snapped her gaze to the opposite wall. "Don't—don't say that."

He smirked faintly. "What? Just being honest."

Selene's pulse refused to settle. Every second of silence pressed harder against her chest, making her feel exposed, fragile. She couldn't allow that.

With deliberate precision, she straightened her back and let her voice cut the air, cool and steady. "It's been long enough. We should talk about where we are—and what we're going to do."

Noel arched a brow at the sudden shift but didn't argue. He sat up properly, brushing dust from his shoulders, his smirk fading into something sharper. "Alright. Practical talk. What do you think?"

Selene gestured toward the endless corridors of stone stretching into the dark. "Honestly, I think we should look for a way out of here. We've already seen that there are things hostile towards us."

Noel studied her for a moment longer, then nodded. "Hostile, yeah. No telling what else is waiting down here." He stretched his arms, still wincing faintly. "So. We keep close. Watch each other's backs. Simple as that."

Selene's grip on her wand eased slightly. Simple. She could handle simple. It grounded her, pulling her mind away from the heat still lingering on her face.

"The longer we wait," she continued, "the more likely it is that something else finds us. Staying in one place isn't an option."

"Agreed," Noel said.

Selene inclined her head, her expression settling into its usual mask of calm. Inside, her nerves still fluttered. But this—strategy, survival, structure—this she could control.

The silence of the sanctuary was deceptive. It wasn't empty—Noel could feel it in his bones.

Their footsteps echoed faintly across polished stone, the walls lined with faded carvings that time had only partially eroded. Between the shadows, faint glimmers of movement betrayed the presence of more constructs. Automata, their plated bodies catching the pale light of mana crystals embedded in the walls. Their footsteps clanked in an unnatural rhythm as they patrolled, heads turning with mechanical precision.

Noel lifted a hand, signaling Selene to stop. Both pressed their backs against a pillar, breath shallow as two of the machines passed by, their glowing eyes sweeping the corridor. Only when the sound of metal faded did Noel step forward again, his grip tightening around Revenant Fang.

Selene's whisper broke the silence. "What do we do? We can't fight every one of them."

Noel exhaled through his nose, gaze locked on the passage that stretched deeper into the unknown. "We don't. We keep low, stay out of sight as much as possible. Fighting every automaton here would drain us before we even find what we need."

She nodded, though her eyes lingered on the patrol routes with calculation. "So we look. For what, exactly? A way out?"

"A way out, or… something." Noel's voice dropped, sharper now. "Doesn't matter what. This place wasn't built to stay hidden forever. There'll be a core, a chamber, maybe even records. Whatever it is, it could give us a path forward."

They moved again, this time slower, weaving between shadows and cover. The deeper they went, the more oppressive the air became, as though the sanctuary itself was watching.

"Still," Noel added under his breath, "I'm sure the others have noticed we're gone by now. Patriarchs, matriarchs… they're not the type to sit idle."

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