Aria
I wake before dawn.
The fire burned low hours ago, leaving only glowing embers scattered through the clearing while cold mist curls softly between the trees.
Everyone else still sleeps.
Or pretends to.
Cassian rests near the outer edge of camp, one hand still close to his blade even in sleep. Lucien remains near the wards, silver magic
drifting faintly around him like instinct never fully lets him rest. Eryndor somehow stole every remaining blanket during the night.
And Kaelith—
Gods.
Kaelith sleeps closest to me now.
Not touching.
But near enough that warmth still radiates softly through the cold forest air.
The bond hums gently beneath my ribs.
Peaceful. Resting. Alive.
I should feel comforted by that.
Instead—unease presses sharply against the edge of my thoughts.
