Finn’s hand lands on my shoulder. Squeezes once.
Malrik’s shadows curl protectively around all of us.
Aspen doesn’t move. Just keeps watch.
And Kaia breathes.
Chapter 7
Kaia
Golden light behind my eyelids.
Warm. Gentle. Pulling me toward consciousness.
I blink, and the world comes into focus slowly.
Clean sheets beneath me. Soft blankets tucked around my legs. The distant sound of voices—real voices, not shadows or magic or danger—drifting through an open window.
A cart wheel creaking. A dog barking. Someone laughing.
Normal sounds.
Safe sounds.
The room smells like soap and sunlight.
I’m not used to waking up without fear.
My body doesn’t know what to do with safety.
I try to orient myself. The room is small but well-kept. Simple wooden furniture. My pack sits folded in the corner, gear laid out like someone took care of it.
Took care of me.
Mouse is curled on my hip, warm and solid, purring softly in his sleep. When I shift, he lifts his head and nudges my cheek gently. He noses under my jaw like he’s checking for injuries.
Bob stands at the foot of the bed like a bouncer who takes his job way too seriously.
The newer shadows cluster around the edges of the room—watchful, protective, refusing to leave.
I try to sit up.
Pain lances through my chest. Sharp. Immediate.
I gasp, and the shadows rush in like I’m about to fall apart.
“Whoa—slow down.”
Torric’s voice cuts through the chaos, low and rough.
I turn my head.
He’s sitting in a chair pulled close to the bed, slouched forward with his arms crossed, exhaustion written across every line of his face. His hair’s a mess. His shirt is half-burned at the edges, streaked with soot and river water.
He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.
He’s been watching over me.
