Ari learned the shape of silence the way some people learned prayers.
At first, it had frightened him the absence of that constant ache in his chest, the faint pull that had once tugged at his thoughts no matter where he was or what he was doing. The bond had never been quiet before. Even when Riven was far away, even when he pretended not to feel it, there had always been something. A presence. A pressure. A reminder that Ari was not alone in his own skin.
Now, there was nothing.
Not gone not severed but folded inward, like something wounded curling around itself to survive.
Ari woke before dawn, as he always did now. Not because of nightmares, but because his body had simply learned not to expect rest. He lay still on the narrow bed, staring at the faint crack in the ceiling that
