Cold bit into Calypso's skin, yanking her from empty darkness. Her eyes fluttered open to the tent's canvas ceiling, mind momentarily adrift. The space beside her held only the hollow impression of Xavier's body—the blankets still molded to his form but devoid of his heat.
She pushed herself upright, brushing silver locks from her face with fingers that trembled slightly. Dawn hadn't yet broken—darkness still cloaked the world outside, though the eastern horizon would soon betray the first hints of morning. A divine being shouldn't require sleep, yet her mortal vessel demanded it—another humiliating reminder of her current limitations.
Something whispered wrongness across her senses. The air felt... off—colder than even Frostfall should permit. Xavier's absence pulled at her awareness, not through their soul bond but through the simple, mortal emptiness of the space he should occupy.
