Three months passed.
Marcus stood at the window of the clock tower, watching the sun set over Havenport. The sky was painted in shades of gold and crimson, beautiful and cruel. The city below was alive with noise and motion—cars honking, people laughing, children playing. Normal. Ordinary. Alive.
But Marcus felt nothing.
The grief had settled into his bones like a permanent cold. Every morning he woke and remembered. Every night he fell asleep and dreamed. Noah was gone. The source was sealed. The doorway was closed. And Marcus was left behind, carrying the weight of everything they'd been through.
Anna found him there most evenings. She would climb the stairs, her footsteps echoing in the silence, and stand beside him without speaking. They didn't need words anymore. They understood e
