The silence after chaos is never peaceful.It pretends to be, soft footsteps, dim lights, the slow rise and fall of breathing bodies, but underneath it were low hums, tight and waiting, like a drawn bow that hasn’t been released yet.Fenrir slept.That alone felt unreal.I sat beside his bed, elbows on my knees, fingers laced together so tightly they ached. The healers had moved him into a smaller chamber closer to the inner gardens, where elven magic flowed naturally through roots and stone. They said it would help his recovery.They also said he should not wake up for at least another day.Fenrir had never been good at following instructions.Moonlight filtered through the tall glass windows, scattering pale reflections across his face. Without the usual sharpness in his expression, without armor or tension, he looked younger. Vulnerable.I hated how much that word fit.“You scared everyone,” I whispered, even though he couldn’t hear me. “You especially scared me.”His chest rose st
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