Kora’s POV
The morning after the ritual felt strange.
Too still. Too clean.
The air no longer crackled with darkness, and for the first time in weeks, the scent of ash had faded from the wind. Yet beneath all that quiet, something didn’t feel right. It was like standing in the eye of a storm—peaceful on the surface, but one step too far and you’d be swallowed again.
Edward was sitting at the edge of the bed when I woke up. His elbows rested on his knees, his head bowed, his fingers knotted tightly together. He looked exhausted—dark circles beneath his eyes, his usually sharp posture dulled with worry.
“How long have you been up?” I asked, my voice rough from sleep.
“Since you stopped breathing for twenty seconds,” he said flatly, not looking at me.
I blinked. “I… what?”
He finally
