POV: ViggoI was a creature of noise.My life was measured in decibels—the roar of the battlefield, the clang of hammer against steel, the screaming static of the Red in my skull. Silence was dangerous. Silence was where the ghosts lived.But for her, I learned to be quiet.I stood in the doorway of the common room, watching Neoma. She was sitting on the rug where Guller had left her, wrapped in her own arms. She looked... faded.That was the only word for it. In the Dregs, she had been a sharp, jagged thing, full of survival and spit. Now, her scent was weak. The ozone of the Void was dull. She smelled like dust and rain that refused to fall.The beast inside me whined. It paced the cage of my ribs, scratching at the bars. It wanted to hunt whatever had hurt her. It wanted to tear Kaine’s throat out. But Kaine was gone, and you cannot punch sadness. You cannot break grief with a hammer.So, I improvised.I turned and walked to my room. It was a mess—a nest of things I had collected.
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