The sky was still bruised with darkness, the faintest gray line at the horizon promising dawn but not yet delivering light. The camp was quiet, the embers in the fire pit hissing softly as the patrollers return from the heart of the Expanse.
Levan's boots sank into the damp earth as he approached the royal tent, moving faster than usual, heart tight with unease. Something had pulled at him during the patrol, a sharp tug at his instincts, urging him back before the day began, so here he was.
Inside, Ilaria was tangled in restlessness. Shadows slithered at the edges of her vision. A cold pulse of dread beat in her chest, and the red sea from her previous dreams rose, staining her mind with terror. She shivered, curling tighter beneath the blankets until a subtle rustle at the tent flap made her freeze.
A tall figure appeared in the half-light, his outline rigid but familiar. Her chest constricted and panic clawed up her throat.
