Silence didn't exist down here. Even in the deepest parts of the underground, where walls were thick and doors stayed shut, there was always something—distant footsteps, muffled voices, the hum of generators forcing life into a dead world.
But in Noah's room felt distant, cold, rid of any warmth and replaced with a dark, lingering pool of death.
The space was large, far too large for one person, yet it held almost nothing personal. A bed. A desk. Maps spread across one wall—marked, studied, memorized. Weapons lined with cold precision. Everything had purpose.
Everything except—
Him.
Noah stood near the far wall, one hand braced against it, head slightly lowered.
"…Ty." The name left his lips quietly.
Unfamiliar.
And yet—
It wasn't.
His jaw tightened.
He pushed off the wall, pacing once across the room before stopping again, hand dragging slowly over his face. Something about that name—it prickled beneath his contaminated skin.
Like a word on the tip of his tongue that refused to be spoken fully.
"…Ty…"
Again. This time, slower.
He closed his eyes. Tried to picture it. A face.
A voice.
Something—
Pain exploded behind his eyes. Sharp. Sudden. Violent enough to make his body tense, fingers digging into his scalp as a low breath escaped him.
"…tch—"
It hit like a spike driven straight through his head, tearing through thought, through memory, through anything that tried to surface.
Noah's breathing deepened, uneven for just a second before he forced it back under control.
Again.
"…Ty."
The pain returned. Stronger.
His head tilted back slightly, jaw clenched as he forced himself to push through it.
There was something there.
He knew it.
A fragment. A piece of something important—something that mattered more than it should.
But every time he reached for it—
It slipped.
And the pain followed.
Noah exhaled slowly through his nose, opening his eyes again. The room steadied.
Quiet.
Still.
"…why…"
The question didn't finish. Because he didn't have an answer.
Only that name.
Only that feeling.
And the way it wouldn't leave.
His gaze shifted toward the door.
A beat of silence.
Then—
"Come in."
The door opened almost immediately.
A man stepped inside—broad-shouldered, dressed in the same dark combat gear as the others, a lion tattoo curling along his forearm. His movements were respectful.
"Yeah?"
Noah didn't turn fully. "Where is he?"
A pause.
"The one we brought in." The man's expression didn't change. "…Holding sector. Lower level." Another second passed before he added,
"Dungeon area."
Noah's gaze flickered slightly. "And?"
"He killed one of ours."
Silence.
Then—
"…Did he?"
It wasn't anger. Not even surprise. Just a quiet acknowledgment.
Noah straightened, pushing himself off the wall completely.
"Stay here." He didn't wait for a response.
Didn't need one.
The halls blurred slightly as he walked.
White walls, marked and painted, passed by in long stretches of light and shadow. People moved out of his way instinctively, conversations dropping the second he approached.
No one stopped him. No one spoke.
They wouldn't dare to even try.
The further down he went, the colder it felt.
The air shifted—thicker, heavier, carrying the faint scent of damp concrete and something less clean.
Metal doors.
Reinforced.
Guarded.
Noah approached without slowing. The guards straightened instantly.
"Sir—"
"Open it." No hesitation.
Keys turned. Locks clicked. The door creaked open with a low, dragging sound. Darkness waited on the other side.
Ty barely heard it.
The door.
The footsteps.
Everything came through muffled, distant.
His head hung forward, chin dipping slightly toward his chest as he sat slumped against the cold floor. His wrists were still bound behind him, ankles tied, body left exactly where they had thrown him.
Soaked.
The water from earlier had long since settled into his clothes, clinging to him in a damp, freezing layer that refused to warm.
His hair stuck slightly to his forehead.
His breathing was steady but slow.
A blindfold covered his eyes.
A gag silenced anything more than faint, frustrated sounds.
Still—
He reacted.
The second the door opened.
A low sound slipped past the gag as he tried to move, body tensing instinctively despite the restraints.
Footsteps approached.
Familiar.
Even if he couldn't see.
Even if he couldn't think clearly.
Something in him—
Recognized it.
Noah stopped in front of him and looked down.
For a moment—he didn't move, didn't speak.
Just watched.
Then—
He crouched.
Reaching forward without hesitation, his hand wrapped around Ty's jaw, tilting his head upward.
Ty stiffened immediately, a muffled protest slipping through the gag as his body tried to pull away.
Noah didn't let him.
His grip wasn't rough.
But it wasn't gentle either. Just firm enough to keep him there.
Still.
His thumb brushed slowly along Ty's cheek.
Tracing his dry scar. The curve of his jaw.
The line beneath his eye.
His gaze didn't leave Ty's face.
Not once.
Something in his expression shifted.
Subtle. Barely noticeable.
But there.
The black veins beneath his skin—coiled along his arm, creeping faintly up his neck—
They stilled.
The faint pulsing that usually ran through them—stopped.
Replaced by something calmer.
Noah exhaled slowly. "…Strange."
The word came out softer this time. Quieter.
Like he wasn't speaking to Ty—
But to himself.
His hand moved again, slower now.
More deliberate, tracing over features like he was trying to memorize them. Like he was trying to find something hidden beneath them.
Ty's breathing hitched slightly beneath the gag.
His body had gone still. Completely still.
Noah leaned closer. Close enough that their breaths almost mixed. Close enough to feel the warmth that shouldn't have been there—but was.
And then—
He pressed his lips against the gag.
A kiss.
Brief.
Ty froze.
Completely.
Noah lingered there for half a second longer than necessary, then pulled back.
His eyes darkened slightly as he stared down at him. Studying. Searching.
There was something there. Something just beneath the surface.
Something he almost understood.
But couldn't.
Not yet atleast.
The moment stretched until Noah stood.
The warmth faded instantly.
The calm with it.
The black veins beneath his skin pulsed again—faint, restless. Like something had been disturbed.
He didn't say anything and instead turned and walked out.
The door shut behind him with a low, final sound.
Leaving Ty alone.
Again.