For three whole weeks, life in Nateron slowed into something Luke almost didn't recognise.
Quiet.
Ordinary.
Warm.
After years of running from danger to danger, scam to lie, crisis to crisis… he felt himself settling into a rhythm that didn't require constant vigilance. A rhythm built from laughter, shared meals, chores, and the small daily rituals of people who genuinely cared for one another. And without him really noticing, the days blurred together in a way that felt soft around the edges—like a memory he'd want to tuck into his pocket forever.
In the first week, at the insistence of Samuel and Henry—both practically vibrating with excitement—Luke ended up doing something he hadn't done in years:
A street magic routine.
Well… "street magic" inside the cathedral common room, but close enough.
He stood in the centre while the boys and girls circled him. Ilyrana leaned against the wall, arms crossed, trying to look unimpressed despite the amused curve of her mouth.
