Hours bled into the sky as the darkness slowly loosened its hold, giving way to the pale, hesitant light of dawn. The first threads of sun crept across the land, brushing the ridges of rock and the damp earth outside with muted gold, as though the world itself was reluctant to wake.
Inside the cave, the air was still—cold enough to bite faintly at the skin. A slow, measured drip of water echoed at irregular intervals from somewhere deep within the stone walls, the sound magnified by the silence until it seemed to mark the rhythm of the night's departure.
Both women lay half-asleep on the uneven ground, wrapped in the shallow comfort of weariness. Eleyn slowly got up.
Seraphis had been meant to keep watch, her turn in their unspoken cycle, but Eleyn had made little effort to stir her when the time came. Her friend's exhaustion had been plain, and Eleyn saw no sense in disturbing it. Besides, her own instincts told her the night would pass without danger.
