Elsbeth.
I woke gasping, fists tangled in the sheets like they were the only thing holding me to this world. The fire had burned low, its embers casting the room in red shadows. The moon hung half-obscured behind thin clouds, and my nightclothes clung to me like a second skin, soaked through with cold sweat.
My body ached. Not with pain, but with weight.
With what I'd seen. Or become.
I couldn't remember it all. Not clearly. Just flashes, impressions. A pull that tasted like power. A voice that didn't belong to me whispering from inside my bones. And those eyes—gods, those eyes. Still blinking behind mine.
I sat up too fast. The world tilted.
My hand went instinctively to my belly, grounding myself in the soft curve of it. Real. Here. Mine.
Beside me, Fen stirred.
"Els?"
His voice was rough with sleep, low and frayed.
He was already reaching for me. One hand on my spine, the other cupping the back of my neck. Warm, steady. Real.
"I'm fine," I lied.
