C69 Feather of the Flame

They stood in the silence after the cloaked figure vanished.

No one chased.

No one asked.

The feather fluttered gently in the wind, its black and white vanes twisting like ink-stained parchment. Elin touched it first, fingers brushing the curl at the tip.

“It feels like it remembers something,” they whispered.

Aster nodded. “Some offerings are not given. They return