On the day after Christmas, Niel realizes that, in the joy of the holiday festivities, he forgot to conduct his paper boat memorial. Another twang of guilt to add to the pile; forgetting is a grave disservice. He sneaks the paper he needs under his shirt and throws on his sweater to make the trek to the river. However, right as he leaves the house...

  "Niel?" Mabel calls from the doorway, "Can you take Illia with you?"

  Great. Among disservices, turning Illia down would be another. Illia skips out of the house in her yellow winter jacket after only a moment of waiting. Why does she want to join him now? She's been complaining of the cold for the past week, and there's no snow to persuade her to brave it. Should he wait until their walk is done, take her home, then strike out again on his own? No, there's not enough time before supper, and it gets too dark too soon to go after. He's also not waiting another day and disrespecting them again.

  ...If Voltaire can keep this secret, then perhaps it's safe to share it with Illia, too.

  As Illia follows him unknowingly to the river, Niel shifts his sweater slightly when she isn't looking, allowing his Dust to carry the paper to the space between the layers of clothing. He could hide it in his shadow now that he knows he can do so, but he will not allow his Dust to desecrate the paper any more than he already has.

  With the cold darkening the grass and secluding the park from anyone not driving past, Illia wonders why Niel decided to come here. Even stranger, he settles down next to the river. The water is so frigid that Illia has to nurse her now-wet finger in her other hand to warm it up. To her surprise, he pulls sheets of paper from underneath his sweater and begins to fold them. Why? She communicates this confusion to him.

  "I don't want to talk about it much, but..." Folding even one boat is dragging on. Niel's fingers are excruciatingly cold. "...it's a way for me to remember."

  Each breath is slow and deep, creating a plume that obscures his vision and highlights his pain. The lack of Dust used in this task isn't lost on Illia. She would help him fold if she knew how to, though she doubts Niel would let her anyway if this task carries even a fraction of the weight he lets on. Instead, after he finishes a boat, she clasps his hands within her pink mittens and blows a warm breath through the fabric to create a makeshift sauna. His fingers are no less red, but it seems to bring him some comfort, at least.

  "Thank you," he says, earnestness visible in the freezing vapour of his exhalation.

  With her support, Niel finishes each boat and sends them afloat down the river. Illia doesn't know who, what, or why Niel is remembering, but upon him placing the last boat in the water, she decides to copy him and place a dried leaf next to it. This silent gesture surprises him, and he gives her a small smile as they watch the memorial drift out of sight.

  It hurts Illia's heart especially to watch them go.

  >>>>>>

  A knock on the door of the home sends Mabel and Gabriel to investigate who the visitor might be. It turns out to be a pair of men they don't know, but despite this, Gabriel leaves the house with them. Why? Niel, who had been watching this through his Dust from his bedroom, decides to go find out.

  Peering down from the top of the stairway, he and Reed—who has now joined him in his curiosity—watch as sections of a new couch wrapped in clear plastic are carried into the house one by one. The pair come out of hiding after the delivery men leave.

  "A new couch?" Reed questions. "What's wrong with the old one?"

  "Nothing. It's just a bit old, and it'd be nice to have something a bit newer and nicer to look at," Gabriel explains.

  "I guess. It has been here longer than me."

  It's that old? Niel doesn't particularly agree in replacing it if it's still functional, but if it's older than Reed... and more than a bit washed out compared to the other furniture they have...

  "We've wanted a new couch for a while now, so this was a Christmas gift to ourselves. It just happened to arrive a bit later than expected," Mabel adds.

  Niel surveys the sections with his eyes and Dust. A modular couch with two discernible ends, two corner pieces, and two standard lengths—metal frame, synthetic black leather, button-operated hydraulic recliners and head rest adjustments at both ends, plus two USB ports each... How much money did this cost? Questionable purchases aside, the kids decide to step back and let their guardians construct and enjoy their new furniture.

  Some time later, the pair, now tailed by the girls and Voltaire, descend back to the living to check up on how the couch construction is going. Turns out, quite well! It's fully built and plugged in, with no issues whatsoever. The girls are quite pleased with how it looks.

  "Oh, wow!" Lydia exclaims, her and Illia being particularly drawn to the recliners.

  "It's nice, isn't it?" Gabriel says.

  "There's, uh... just one problem," Mabel chimes in.

  Again, no issues whatsoever... apart from the fact that it's in the middle of the living room, while being too cumbersome to move easily. And the old couch is in the way.

  "Wouldn't it have been easier to build it in the spot you wanted it in first, instead of building it there and then needing to move it?" Reed questions, his hindsight undoubtedly 20/20.

  Both guardians cross their arms and say nothing, pondering on this miscalculation. The silence is deafening as all eyes are on them.

  "...Yeah, that would've been a better idea," Gabriel admits flatly, causing both Niel and Reed to exhale sharply through their noses in amusement.

  "Niel, can you...?" Mabel says before her voice trails off.

  "Yeah." Niel coats the underside and internal frame of the couch with a light film of Dust and gives some force. However, the couch goes nowhere.

  "Niel?" Gabriel questions, unsure of if the dark Mute boy is doing anything or not.

  "I'm trying. It's heavy."

  "Wow, I didn't expect you to be beaten by a couch of all things," Reed quips. "And particularly a black leather couch..."

  "Shut up, Reed..." Lydia groans.

  "Why do you know what I'm talking about?" he fires back, catching her in a pitfall of her own making and silencing her expeditiously. Illia, with gracious innocence, doesn't get it.

  "No, I'm just not using enough Dust," Niel says.

  With a wave of his hand, eight lengths of black chain emerge from his back and attach themselves to various parts of the couch. What was once an immovable object now floats like helium off the floor, and the old couch is pulled aside for the new one. Niel pulls the chains back to his body and dispels them in one fluid motion.

  "Thank you, Niel!" Mabel thanks, patting him on the head in gratitude.

  "Are those chains really that strong?" Gabriel asks.

  "It's less the chains and more that it's a larger stream of Dust moving from me to the target. Think of it like lifting something with your pinky compared to your whole hand," Niel explains. "It also helps to anchor the chains to my body instead of just my arms. Dust may be weightless to me, but not what it's carrying."

  "So the whole weight of the couch is on your shoulders?" Voltaire questions, eager that he's learning more about Niel's Mute.

  "Only part of it, like lifting something as a team, or using leverage to move something you normally can't."

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  "And... why chains? Instead of, I dunno, just a line?"

  For once, Niel doesn't have an answer. He conjures a smaller length of chain that extends from his left palm, staring deeply in the void-black for a reason. "Familiarity, I guess."

  With the new couch in place, Illia wonders where the old one will go. Somewhere else in the living room? There doesn't seem to be any space for it now. She signs this to Mabel.

  "Hm? It'll be sold or thrown out," Mabel says.

  Illia gives no change in expression upon hearing this, but after Mabel turns away, Niel can see through his Dust that the enthusiasm Illia had is now gone completely.

  After the old couch is moved to an inconsequential area of the house for temporary storage, Mabel learns that her reorganizational itch hasn't yet been scratched. Is there anywhere else in the house that needs touching up? Lydia, who now shares Mabel's same itch, is who her gaze falls on first.

  "Want to change around your room?" Mabel asks before spinning it into a lighthearted joke, adding, "It probably needs a cleaning anyway."

  "...Sure," Lydia concedes, knowing full well the makeup bottles and multicoloured tissues and cotton swabs she has strewn around. Lydia turns to Illia to her left. "Want your room changed around? Your room is much messier than mine."

  Illia shakes her head no.

  "Are you suuure?"

  Lydia was trying to be playful and nothing more, but Illia aggressively shakes her head and crosses her arms in adamant rejection. The mute girl normally doesn't act so fervently; Lydia pressed too hard on a sore spot.

  "Okay, I'm sorry. We'll leave your room alone," she apologizes. This and a head pat from both her and Mabel tempers her silent outburst, but for the rest of the day, Niel observes through his Dust that she remains soured and withdrawn in her room.

  >>>>>>

  All the residents of the house are gathered in the living room and kitchen on the cusp of the year's end. While Mabel, Gabriel, Lydia, and Voltaire enjoy the new couch, Niel and Illia share the loveseat, and Reed is on his lonesome in the dining room attempting to repair a controller he broke. A festive and high-octane celebration occurring somewhere else in the province plays on the TV as the new year's arrival slowly counts down, and the excitement is permeating through the screen. Five... Four... Three... Two... One... Happy New Year's!

  As everyone gets up to wish each other good tidings, the distinct pop of fireworks can be heard and seen in the near distance lighting up the midnight sky. Neither Niel nor Illia understand why exactly this is celebrated outside of sentimentality, but they're regardless unbothered and hesitantly accepting, respectively. Niel moves out to the dining room to greet Reed.

  "Happy New Year's," Niel says as Reed reattaches a ribbon cable. "Any progress?"

  "Happy New Year's, and yeah, should work now if I have everything put back together correctly."

  From their place at the table, Lydia's voice can be heard carrying the topic of a New Year's resolution.

  "Do people still make those?" Reed questions.

  The chattering has only gotten louder now. "Sounds like it."

  "Then..." After packing away his small tools in a resealable bag, Reed gets up from the table. "My New Year's resolution will be to focus more on my future."

  "Then I'll match you, and hold you to your word."

  Reed grins at this. "And I'll do the same for you."

  There's a week and a half left before they have to return to their school life, so the kids make the most of this time by relaxing and working on their own hobbies and interests. It even snows at one point, much to Illia's delight. Before any of them realize it, Gabriel's 33rd birthday on the 19th is right around the corner. Picking a gift for him ends up being easy, as one of his slippers had recently lost its rubber base.

  Lydia's birthday is now just over a week away. But, between Gabriel's birthday and hers, Dwayne receives an update on the pre-trial conference, which he then passes along to Voltaire. Due to the severity of their charges, Voltaire's parents have been denied any resolution discussions, meaning there will not be any plea bargains struck to lighten their sentences. They've also opted for a jury-less trial, something Dwayne theorizes as desperation; a jury may be less merciful to them in the face of such neglect and abandonment. However, while resolution discussions are off the table for the parents, the same is not true for the brother. Dwayne fully expects him to take a plea bargain in the coming weeks. This draws a steep venom from Voltaire, hence why Niel knows of this too after allowing the ex-thief to vent.

  Celebration comes to the home again on the 27th for Lydia's 18th birthday. Much like any birthday, there's cake and decorations and cheer in the air! Except, under all of this is a gloomy truth that everyone knows of but doesn't want to acknowledge—a stillness that stagnates the silence in even the smallest gaps in conversation, like an itch in the back of everybody's minds. It's Lydia's eighteenth birthday.

  Each child in the home (apart from Voltaire) is a Crown ward, meaning that, while Mabel and Gabriel are the ones that look out for them, they're really the legal responsibility of the government. More concisely, they're foster children with assistance from and protection via the government.

  You lose all of this once you turn 18.

  Thankfully, this doesn't mean Lydia is leaving the home quite yet—there are transitional programs and plans in place to aid youths during this period so they're not forced to live on their own at the drop of a hat. For Lydia specifically, she'll be staying in the home for another year or so, as she's currently still in school and unemployed. After that, though, she'll be saying goodbye and moving out, as per her transition plan. All of this to say, the flow of time is ever unceasing, and this is a grounding reality check for everyone.

  Illia is especially unhappy about this.

  >>>>>>

  The second day of February is a holiday Niel has never heard of before: the day a rodent predicts the remaining length of the winter based only on if its shadow is visible or now. Of all the holidays, this has to be the strangest. Let's see if the prediction of a longer winter holds true. Niel will probably forget about this in two days—that is, if the plush toy of a groundhog Illia is currently giving a lot of attention to stops re-jogging his memory.

  On the afternoon of the following non-rodent-based day, Reed and Voltaire return home from school with an interesting worksheet in hand: a course selection form. They both sit at the table to work on it, with Mabel and Gabriel behind them, Lydia to Reed's left, and Niel and Illia to Voltaire's right.

  "It's weird how you have to pick your own courses," Niel comments, all of his academic experience coming from others choosing what he should learn.

  "Not really," Lydia rebukes. "There are more courses than you can take in one year, and some of them have different levels of complexity. If you want to enter a specific career field, there are some classes you'll want to take over others."

  "Like, if you want to be a doctor, you should take biology and chemistry," Reed adds, marking these classes down on his form and keeping his word to Niel.

  "But there are still classes you need to take, like some variant of math, science, and English," Mabel adds further, with Voltaire following along.

  "And art, apparently," the ex-thief says with little enthusiasm.

  "Art's a free class—don't worry about it," Reed shrugs dismissively.

  "I'm not worrying about it, I just don't know why I have to take it."

  Having to choose school courses is also a foreign thing to Illia. With her curiosity piqued, she turns to Lydia to see what she selected—but what she finds surprises her and further widens that ever-expanding hole in her heart. Lydia doesn't have a form, because there is no next school year for her. She'll be graduating in June. And then, after... She doesn't want this reminder.

  It's too late in the day and the glade is too far away, so Illia holes herself in her room for the rest of the evening. She tries to find solace in her blanket, toys, music and lights, but it brings her little peace. There's just too much on her mind.

  Later that night, Niel wakes from a dreamless sleep to a noise that doesn't exist. There's little to see in the dark, yet there's a blinding light in his right peripheral. A signature—more defined than his Dust, but not dissimilar. A potent blip on the internal radar his Dust communicates to him through. To his right and on the same level... Illia.

  As he gets up and ventures quietly to her room, he takes a lone moment to contemplate. This is her doing, isn't it? And if it is, is this a conscious or unconscious action? Niel gently knocks on her door. After hearing fabric shuffling on the other side, Illia slowly opens it, surprised to see him now. The hallway's dull nightlight luminance reflects off her tear-stained cheeks. She invites him in without a word spoken between them.

  'I had a bad dream,' Illia signs with her knees in her neck. 'Everyone and everything in the house was different. Everyone left me. Even my room was different.'

  Niel doesn't see why this would be worthy of crying over. It's just a dream, right? Well, he knows from his own nightmares that they're the effect of something, not the cause. And the cause is something he knows and feels sad about, but ultimately accepts. Illia, weeping by herself in the dark, does not. It's about Lydia moving out.

  But Niel feels it goes deeper than this. Illia has always been anxious about major and even some minor events. She didn't want glasses, she was very apprehensive about both Voltaire and himself moving in, she didn't want the old couch to be thrown away, and she adamantly didn't want her room to be reorganized. And this is just what he's seen. Lydia moving out is just another addition to this greater fear, the weight that's now causing her to collapse.

  "You're afraid of change, aren't you?"

  Illia sniffles, and she nods her head silently.

  'I don't like change. I don't want things to change again.'

  Telling her that change is inevitable or that with change comes new opportunity—Niel thinks this is pointless. How many times could she have been told this by the others? Niel was told countless times that the lab wouldn't find him here, yet he still feels that he's one or two bad moves away from them being on the doorstep. Fear doesn't want reason; it wants to exist, and in secret at that. It wants to be the puppeteer in the shadows, controlling you down to your sub-thoughts. With his fears, Niel just wants them to be seen. He wants to be seen. To be validated. So when he pulls Illia into his embrace, and she begins sobbing into his chest, he wants her to feel seen. As he pats her head as Mabel does to them, he wants her to feel understood.

  Because fear doesn't have to be rational. Fear is, as fear gives.

  The foundation of their shadows.