Third person POV:
The bell of Duskbane tolled twice before sunrise. Strangely, the sound carried that morning, hollow and almost uncertain, as though the metal itself hesitated to disturb the silence.
Ayaana paused midway down the corridor, a bowl of warm water trembling in her hands. She turned toward the chamber door at the hall's end. For a moment, she thought she'd imagine it, the faint flicker that pulsed under the c***k of the door, gold instead of the usual red.
She almost dropped the bowl.
Inside, the room was silent. The curtains stirred in a breeze that shouldn't exist; no windows was open. On the bed lay Lincoln, exactly as he had for the past three hundred and sixty-five days peaceful, too still, his chest unmoving. But the light along his skin... it was changing.
It had
