Morning came early in Ravens hollow.
The fire had burned low during the night, leaving the cabin wrapped in a soft, fading warmth that clung to the wooden walls and settled quietly in the spaces between breath and movement.
Elara woke before the sun fully rose.
Not with fear.
Not with the lingering ache of dreams.
But with awareness.
She didn't move at first.
Her gaze rested on the ceiling, unfocused, her thoughts still caught somewhere between sleep and memory.
Then—she felt it.
The presence beside her.
Vaelith.
She turned her head slowly.
Carefully.
As though even that small movement might give something away.
He was awake.
Not moving.
Not speaking.
Just lying on his back, one arm resting loosely beneath his head, his gaze turned slightly toward the far wall.
For a mome
