Day Three began under a sky the color of a bruise, low clouds pressing down through the canopy in a way that made the Reach feel smaller, more claustrophobic, than it had on any previous morning. Luna woke stiff and sore from a night spent half-sleeping against a fallen log, and found Sylas already awake, sharpening a blade with the meticulous, unhurried care of a man using motion to organize his thoughts.
"You didn't sleep either," she observed, settling near the low fire's embers.
"I've been thinking about choices," Sylas said, not looking up from the blade. "Maren's whole plan hinges on choosing something deliberate and honest, every day, even when it costs something. I've spent my entire life avoiding exactly that particular combination. I choose things constantly. I simply never let
