Morning arrived like a soft breath. Light poured through carved beams and settled into faint patterns along the walls, glowing as if the house itself had decided to wake gently. For a long moment, I didn’t move. Warm blankets. A bed that felt like someone who understood exhaustion on a spiritual level had designed it. Silence that didn’t demand anything from me. I could have stayed there forever. But apparently, survival involves standing up eventually. I dressed in the least wrinkled option available and stepped into the hallway. The air smelt faintly of something warm, like bread. My stomach made a sound that could have been classified as a cry for help. Cewyn was waiting near the stairs. Not looming, not guarding. Just present, like gravity with better hair. “Come,” she said. “You...