Riven did not sleep.
At first, he told himself it was habit years of training his body to remain alert, to function on fractured rest, to stay sharp when others dulled. Sleep had always been optional for him. A luxury he'd learned to discard without consequence.
This was different.
This was not restlessness. Not vigilance.
This was awareness.
He lay flat on his back on the narrow bed in his assigned quarters, one arm folded beneath his head, eyes fixed on the dark ceiling. The room was quiet, too quiet, even for a military wing built for containment and discipline. No hum of conversation through walls. No distant laughter. Just the soft, regulated breathing of a city that never truly slept.
And the bond.
Silent.
Riven closed his eyes and focused inward, the way he had been t
