When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the ceiling fan spinning slowly above me. For a second, I forgot where I was. Then the stiffness in my neck reminded me: the couch.
I’d fallen asleep there, curled up under a blanket that didn’t quite cover my feet. But for the first time in days, sleep had actually stayed with me. No visions. No shadows pressing through my chest. Just… rest.
I blinked and sat up, the blanket sliding off my shoulders. Across the room, Alaric was exactly where he’d been when I drifted off — leaning against the far wall, arms folded, head tilted slightly forward like he might’ve dozed but never fully let himself slip under. His eyes opened the second I moved.
“Morning, bridge,” he muttered, voice rough with the kind of weariness that didn’t come from sleep
