Ren lay in the dark after his family had gone.
The cot creaked faintly under him, but the weight wasn't from the frame. It was from everything sitting in his chest.
He could still feel Mira's small hands gripping his sleeve. Still hear his mother's voice begging him not to vanish. Still seeing his father's unreadable gaze, trying to measure what his son was becoming.
For a moment, he wished he had broken and told them everything. The mask. The bleeding channels. The days he couldn't move his own arms. But instead he had eaten quietly, nodded quietly, let them go quietly.
Nyxa's voice slid through the silence, smoke-soft.
"They came to see their boy. But a year from now, what will they see? What will be left of you to sit at their table?"
Ren closed his eyes.
They'll see me standing. That's enough.
The chamber's lights dimmed completely, and sleep finally came.
★★★
The second year didn't open with gentleness.
Daevar met him at dawn, tossing aside the weighted mask.
