The morning was slow, as if the realm itself had exhaled and forgotten to breathe in again. Pale light filtered through gauzy curtains, casting soft shadows across the study’s worn stone floor. Cal sat cross-legged on the rug, a steaming cup cradled in his hands. Serelith leaned against the window frame, watching the light shift across his face.
A faint tremor rippled through the floorboards, so subtle Cal might have missed it if Serelith hadn’t stiffened. Her fingers brushed the windowpane, and the glass pulsed once beneath her touch — as if the realm were answering her heartbeat instead of its own.
Neither spoke. Silence had become their language — a space where memory lingered and truths waited to be named.
“I’ve been thinking,” Serelith said finally, her voice low. “Since the day of
