Moonlight slipped through the narrow window slats, drawing pale lines across the wooden floor. Four bunks stood quiet—Marcus on the lower bed beneath Noel, Garron and Laziel on the opposite side. All of them asleep.
Noel lay on the top bunk, eyes open, staring at the dark ceiling just inches above him. The cold of the night barely reached under the blanket, but his thoughts weren't letting him rest.
He turned his head slightly. Beside his pillow, tucked into the shadows, was the slim shape of his dimensional pouch.
He reached out, slow and silent, careful not to disturb the rhythm of the others' breathing.
'Alright… let's see what this diary has to show me.'
His fingers brushed the pouch's edge. It barely weighed anything, but inside, it held something that hadn't left his mind in the last hours.
Noel sat up, the old wood beneath him groaning ever so slightly. No one stirred.
He pulled the diary out.
