Before the Gate Opens
Morning came sharper than the day before.
Not harsh—just alert. The kind of light that made edges clearer and decisions heavier.
Emily woke to the sound of movement before she fully opened her eyes: fabric shifting, boots sliding into place, the faint clink of metal against metal. Chandler was already up, moving with the quiet efficiency he slipped into whenever something important was coming.
Today mattered.
She sat up slowly in the blanket fort they'd slept in, the smell of coffee drifting in from the kitchen. "You didn't wake me," she said, voice still soft with sleep.
He turned, smiling faintly. "You needed it."
She stretched, then pressed a hand briefly to her stomach—habit now more than worry. The nausea had eased overnight, leaving behind a dull, familia
