Caring for me even when he barely has resources to care for himself.
I wonder if he's still exhausted from the soul split.
The question surfaces with genuine concern, my attention shifting from appreciation to worry as I study his sleeping features more carefully. The pallor that seemed beautiful a moment ago now registers as potentially unhealthy—too pale, too drawn, carrying shadows beneath his eyes that speak to depletion beyond simple tiredness.
The separation from Nikki must have cost him more than he's shown.
Years of sharing existence with another soul, of having that constant presence as companion and burden and fundamental part of his identity... suddenly gone. Torn away by magic that didn't ask permission, that simplydidwhat it did and left both halves to figure out how to function independently.
Is he okay?
Is he recovering?
Or is he slowly fading, his magic insufficient to sustain a body that learned to depend on supplemental energy from a counterpart who no longer exists within him?
The worry should probably agitate me into full wakefulness.
Should drive me to shake him awake, demand answers, insist on understanding whether my bond mate is in danger that requires immediate intervention.
But the cocoon works against urgency with the same gentle insistence it applied to my earlier attempts at alertness. The floral scents deepen around me, lavender notes intensifying, andI feel my concern being... not dismissed, exactly, butsoothed. Acknowledged and then set aside for later examination, when rest has done its work and consciousness can function properly.
Gabriel and Nikki.
The thought drifts through my awareness with the particular weight of connections that transcend physical presence.
Are they truly okay?
In whatever world they are—Deathshire Academy, the other side of the coin that Gabriel described—are they safe? Healing? Building the lives that their separation from us finally allows?
I saw peace in Gabriel's eyes during our dreamscape farewell. Genuine acceptance of a fate that carried him away from me but toward something—someone—he'd been denied while trapped within my consciousness. Nikki waits for him there, in whatever realm exists parallel to Wicked Academy, and whatever love has grown between them finally has the opportunity to bloom without interference.
They're together.
They have each other.
And if Gabriel's confidence was genuine rather than performed for my benefit, they have purpose waiting for them—allies on journeys we can't yet comprehend, roles to play in whatever cosmic drama has shaped all our existences.
The sigh that escapes me carries grief and acceptance intertwined.
I miss my brother.
Will probably always miss him, in the particular way that twins miss their other halves even when separation is necessary for both to thrive. The years we spent sharing consciousness—his presence a constant companion, his observations a running commentary on everything I experienced—created bonds that transcend simple siblinghood.
But he's not gone.
Just... elsewhere.
And elsewhere might be exactly where he needs to be.
My eyes grow heavy.
The exhaustion that the cocoon temporarily held at bay returns with gentle insistence, pressing against my consciousness with the particular weight of a body that has genuinely, thoroughly earned the rest it's requesting. The soreness from Cassius's attentions. The magical depletion from soul extraction and Fae awakening. The emotional drain of too many revelations compressed into too few hours.
Sleep.
The suggestion comes from somewhere deep—instinct rather than thought, body wisdom rather than conscious decision.
Let the cocoon do its work.
