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The dim glow of the lanterns sputtered every so often, painting long shadows across the circular chamber. It still left most of the shelter submerged in darkness.

The light should have been comforting. It reminded him of Lumenshire in some ways. The abbey had always been full of lantern light reflecting against archways and windows. Soft pools of gold would gather in corners while storms battered the cliffs beyond.

His heart ached. Lumenshire felt so far away now.

Caelyn sat with his back against the cold wall and watched Elowynn sleep beside him. She had lasted longer than everyone else, which hadn't surprised him.

Even as a child, Elowynn treated exhaustion as a personal challenge rather than a limitation. He remembered finding her asleep across open books more times than he could count, stubbornly trying to read long after her body had decided otherwise. Sister Agatha had once threatened to confiscate every archive key in the abbey if Elowynn didn't learn the revolutionary concept of rest. Elowynn would attempt to argue, but Agatha had always won.

The memory made him smile.

Now, she was curled beneath a blanket taken from one of the crates. Someone had found more practical clothes among the emergency supplies. They were men’s clothes, but they did the job on her lithe form, and were far more practical than the cumbersome dress.

Caelyn couldn't stop looking at her.

One hand rested beneath her cheek while loose strands of her hair spilled across the fabric. He reached out, affectionately stroking her brow. She didn't move at all. Exhaustion had finally won the battle she had been fighting since Blackwake began, though the faint crease between her brows remained even in sleep.

Five turnings apart and she still looked incapable of resting without finding something new to worry about.

His chest squeezed and he forced himself to look away and toward his lap where the doll rested in the other hand. He had not meant to keep holding it, yet every time he considered setting it aside, he found himself remembering the child in the gallery.

The shelter remained quiet for a few bells after everyone had fallen asleep.

Then that strange feeling returned.

Not a voice nor sound. Something deeper he felt in his soul.

Caelyn closed his eyes and instantly regretted it. The sensation strengthened the moment he stopped distracting himself.

It felt like standing beside the sea during a storm. Not hearing the waves. Feeling them, like sensing the pulling sensation through the ground beneath his feet before they ever reached the shore.

Something moved below Veylspire. Far deeper than the shelter.

The pull toward it existed within him. It was constant and patient, waiting for something he couldn't quite understand yet.

His stomach twisted. There was no denying the worry that bubbled within him. He had a hunch that the feeling pulling him was the same feeling the Starless were following. That feeling inside him and the movement of the Starless felt like pieces of the same puzzle.

Caelyn had spent most of his life wondering what he was, and now he was beginning to truly fear the answer.

He opened his eyes and focused on the shelter again.

The pull weakened. It felt like a dulled ache from a healing bruise.

His gaze drifted back toward Elowynn.

Her luminous hair was dulled from ash and dirt. Tendrils had escaped whatever remained of her formal hairstyle from bells ago. Soot marked one temple, and there was dried blood on her hands.

The sight hurt to witness. She was here, and she was alive. After all this time of imagining her face, she was close enough for him to be able to reach out and touch.

What if he hadn’t found her in time before her window exploded and the city fell?

That thought made his stomach roil. His chest tightened as panic began to work its way up his throat. He had to push it down, because there were no what-ifs. He was here with her now. He was where the stars and the gods meant for him to be.

He believed that.

His gaze lingered longer than it should have before movement near one of the tunnels caught his attention.

Someone was leaving.