Zafira leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the cold silver railing. The mist beneath the bridge drifted like slow-moving clouds, swallowing the lower edges of the floating island. For a moment, the tension of the Council chamber felt miles away.
"Honestly," she said, blowing a strand of hair from her face, "I only came out to take a walk. And probably to look for you, since—knowing you—you wouldn't be with your family. Same as the last Council. You vanished the first moment you had the chance."
Trafalgar rolled his eyes lightly. "You say that like it's some kind of recurring habit."
Zafira gave a sideways smirk. "Maybe."
The wind carried the faint hum of mana from the palace behind them, the whole floating island saturated with the uneasy pulse of political tension. But up here, on this quiet bridge between sky gardens and marble plazas, the world felt momentarily distant—distant enough to breathe.
