Gon’s boots scuffed the marble as he turned down another corridor, narrower than the last, the torchlight dimming into a soft, amber haze.
The restlessness still coiled tight in his chest, Mira’s words looping like a taunt he couldn’t shake.
He needed sothing, air, quiet, anything to dull the edge, and then he saw her.
Lena stood in a shallow alcove, frad by a tall, arched window that spilled late afternoon light across her silhouette.
She was alone, a rare sight in a palace crawling with mages who clung to their packs like wolves.
Her stillness caught him off guard, a stark contrast to the chaos he’d just left behind.
He knew how this would end anyway, he would be bending her over in his room.
Still, he felt the desire to draw this out for so reason.
She leaned against the stone sill, one hand resting lightly on the edge, her gaze fixed on the gardens beyond.
The light caught her profile, sharp cheekbones softened by a faint flush, a jawline that hinted at stubbornness.
Her hair, a deep brown that bordered on black, fell in loose waves over her shoulders, strands catching the breeze that slipped through the cracked windowpane.
She wore a simple tunic, slate gray and unadorned, the kind that blended into the crowd, yet sothing about her refused to fade.
Maybe it was the way she held herself, relaxed but poised, like a blade sheathed but ready.
Gon slowed, his steps faltering as he took her in, the restless churn in his gut shifting into sothing else, curiosity, maybe, or the faint tug of recognition, though he couldn’t place why.
He lingered a few paces away, hands shoved into his pockets, debating whether to keep walking.
But she turned her head slightly, as if sensing him, and her eyes t his, hazel, flecked with gold, steady in a way that made him feel suddenly exposed.
"Hiding too?" he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them, half-teasing, half-genuine.
His voice echoed faintly in the corridor, sharper than he’d intended.
Lena didn’t startle, didn’t shift her posture. She tilted her head, considering him with a calm that felt deliberate, almost disarming.
"Observing," she corrected, her voice low and smooth, cutting through the lingering sting of Mira’s venom.
She nodded toward the window, the gardens sprawling below like a patchwork of shadow and light. "It’s quieter out there."
Her tone carried no judgnt, just a simple truth, and Gon found himself stepping closer, drawn by the ease of it.
He leaned against the opposite wall of the alcove, arms crossed, studying her openly now.
Up close, he noticed the faint scar above her left eyebrow, a thin crescent that glead pale against her skin, a mark of sothing survived, though she didn’t wear it like a badge.
He wondered where she’d gotten it. Training? A duel? Sothing worse? He thought about asking but held back.
"Didn’t peg you for the quiet type," he said, testing her, his lips twitching into a half-smirk.
He expected a quip, a deflection, sothing to match the sparring he was used to with Milo or the barbs he’d just traded with Mira.
But Lena just looked at him, her gaze steady, unflinching, and a flicker of amusent danced in her eyes.
"You don’t know yet," she said simply, the words hanging there like a challenge wrapped in velvet.
There was no bite to it, no edge, just a quiet confidence that made Gon’s smirk falter for a heartbeat.
He opened his mouth to reply, sothing clever, sothing to keep the rhythm going, but she turned back to the window, her fingers tracing the stone sill absently, and the mont slipped away.
He watched her for a beat longer, the way the light played across her hair, the way her stillness seed to fill the space more than his pacing ever could.
Who was she, really? Not one of Mira’s sycophants, not one of the loudmouths from the hall. Soone else entirely.
The silence stretched, not uncomfortable but heavy with unspoken questions.
Gon shifted his weight, the marble cold against his back, and felt a spark of sothing, curiosity, sure, but laced with a pull he couldn’t na.
He wasn’t used to this, to soone who didn’t push or prod or demand.
"Guess I’ll figure you out eventually," he said, quieter this ti, almost to himself.
Lena’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile. "Maybe."
A burst of laughter echoed from down the hall, sharp and familiar, slicing through the quiet like a blade.
Mira’s voice, unmistakable, carried on the air, too distant to make out words, but close enough to prickle Gon’s skin.
He tensed, his head turning instinctively toward the sound, the earlier confrontation flaring back to life in his chest.
Lena didn’t react, her gaze still fixed on the gardens, but he caught the faintest shift in her expression, a tightening at the corners of her mouth, gone as quick as it ca.
"See you around," she said, pushing off the sill with a fluid grace that belied the simplicity of her words.
She stepped past him, her shoulder brushing his arm for a fleeting second, and then she was gone, her footsteps fading into the corridor’s shadows.
Gon exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. His pulse still thrumd, but it had changed, steadied.
The tension from earlier hadn’t vanished, but it had dulled, like a blade cooled after being pulled from the forge.
He glanced toward the window, at the quiet Lena had left behind.
The gardens stretched wide, a mix of order and wildness, paths winding through trimd hedges and untad vines. A sharp contrast. Like her.
A breeze drifted through the cracked window, carrying the scent of fresh earth and sothing floral, soft but lingering.
Gon stayed there a mont longer, then pushed off the wall, hands still in his pockets.
His boots scuffed against the marble as he walked, slower this ti, the weight in his chest a little less sharp.
Mira’s voice echoed again, louder now, but he didn’t look back.
He had sothing else on his mind.
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