he sun hadn't yet risen when Zixuan opened her window to the quiet breath of morning. Dew clung to the iron grills, and mist rolled slowly off the trees in the distance, like ghosts returning to sleep.
She stood there for a moment, silently sipping the bitter black tea Cecilion had brewed for them. He said it would "keep their heads clear," though she doubted anything could truly prepare them for the day ahead.
None had ever thought I'll of their close relationship. After all, they're half siblings.
Inside her room, Cecilion finished zipping up his dark hoodie and reached for the leather notebook where he had jotted names and possibilities late into the night.
They didn't speak much. Not because there was nothing to say—but because the words between them had already been spoken. Too many truths. Too many lines crossed.
The first step in their plan was observation—not action. Cecilion insisted on it.
