Chapter 52: Gratefulness
The air hadn’t lifted. The tension remained wrapped around the back of Kivas’ skull, dull and steady, like the ache of a storm behind the eyes.
Samael and Azulus had drifted into another bout of verbal exchange, their voices hardened by calculation and differing instincts. Kivas could barely register the content of it—Samael’s clipped, cutting tones and Azulus’ steady, scared, yet unwavering counters collided like steel on steel.
It wasn’t heated in volume, but sharp in intent as the two of them were insistent on their own path that could barely find any middle ground. Words like "recklessness," "priority," "risk factor," and "pointless endeavor" flared in between the static of Kivas’ disorientation.
Each sentence passed over her as if her mind was filtering the world through fog.
Her breathing remained steady, but her focus slipped, carried inward toward a memory that had never fully left.
It was always there. Beneath the surface. Not dramatic or explosive, just quietly rooted like a splinter in the soul.
And she always recalled this undying memory again and again, at every waking moment.
A rooftop of a tall building. Her feet on the ledge. Cracked concrete beneath half-worn shoes. Wind pulling gently against her bruised face.
Below her, the city pulsed like a living thing. People drifted from place to place, voices raised in moments she could not hear. Lights flickered. Traffic crawled. Life moved, and they went on in their own waves, uncaring.
And she stood apart, gazing at them, those who lived their lives.
There was no call for attention. No final message written on a scrap of paper. No tragedy steeped in poetic metaphors.