Chapter 21 What the Night Hears
POV: Elara
Sleep finds me in fragments.
Not dreams—those are sharp and loud and full of roots and silver light—but the shallow drifting that comes when my body is exhausted and my mind refuses to surrender. I lie wrapped in blankets that smell faintly of smoke and Cael’s magic, listening to the wind comb through broken stone.
The kiss replays behind my eyes.
Not the sensation—though my lips still tingle—but the choice of it. The way he touched me as if it mattered. As if restraint was something he wielded, not something forced upon him.
It changes everything.
The shadow inside me is awake too.
Not agitated. Not eager.
Observing.
I feel it settle when my thoughts drift toward Cael, as though it is taking note of him the way it takes note of threats and terrain. Cataloguing. Learning.
No, I think sharply.
The shadow does not retreat—but it does not push.
Progress.
I turn onto my side, staring into the dim light of the