The chamber was quieter than usual that night.
Not empty.
Not still.
Just… softer.
The weight of the day hadn’t disappeared, it lingered in the air, in the walls, in the thoughts neither of them voiced out loud—but it had shifted into something less sharp.
Lyra sat near the edge of the bed again, but this time, she wasn’t restless.
She was tired.
Not the kind of tired that sleep fixes.
The kind that settles deeper, into bone, into breath, into the quiet spaces between heartbeats.
Her hand rested over her stomach, moving slowly, absentmindedly, as if grounding herself.
She had done something today.
Not physically.
But mentally.
And it had cost her more than she wanted to admit.
The door opened.
She didn’t need to look up.
She knew it was him.
Kael stepped in, closing the do
