Caitlyn’s POV
I don’t sleep.
Not really. I close my eyes sometimes. That’s it.
Sleep is where the soft stuff waits. Regret. Fear. Memories I’ve already buried once.
The others are out cold. Slumped against bags, cloaks pulled over their faces. A few snore. One’s drooling. Rael’s different. He’s sitting near the fire like always, still and quiet. Eyes closed, but he’s not asleep. I can tell. His breathing's too steady.
I wonder what keeps him up.
Not because I care. Just because it might be useful to know.
The fog’s thick again. Damp and clinging. Every breath tastes like cold metal. I can’t see more than ten steps ahead, but I can feel something out there. Watching.
It always is.
The sigil on my throat pulses. That slow, dragging heat that comes before Vault dreams. It settles in
