I wake already aware that today is going to test me, not because anything hurts or feels wrong, but because the bond hums with a sharper clarity than it has before, like it’s tuned itself more precisely overnight. I lie there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the distant sounds of the packhouse waking up, boots on stone, doors opening, the faint clatter of mugs, and I breathe slowly until my pulse evens out.
“Okay,” I murmur to myself. “We’re doing today.”
I shower, letting the heat steady me, and when I brush my teeth and catch my reflection, I pause longer than usual, studying the way my eyes look clearer than they did a week ago. Tired, yes, but grounded, and that feels like progress I’m not willing to discount. I braid my hair, pull on clean clothes, and stretch care
