Richard turned to the boy, words failing him, gratitude swelling in his chest. But the boy merely gave a small, knowing smile, his work seemingly done. He stepped back, ready to leave as quietly as he had come.

“Wait,” Richard managed, his voice choked with emotion. “Who are you?”

The boy paused, glancing back with eyes that seemed far older than his years. “Just someone who listens,” he replied cryptically. “Someone who hears what others cannot.”