Morning arrived beneath a sky veiled in pale clouds, the sunlight filtering weakly through the towering windows of Valen's mansion. The house was unusually quiet, wrapped in the kind of silence that lingered after days of funerals and condolences. Even the servants moved more carefully than usual, their footsteps softened against the polished marble floors as though afraid to disturb the grief that still haunted the estate.

Eden stood outside Noah's bedroom, one hand resting lightly against the half-open door. The little boy lay curled beneath the blanket; his cheeks faintly flushed with a low fever. His breathing had steadied, one tiny hand tucked beneath his face while the other clung stubbornly to the stuffed rabbit he refused to sleep without.