Chapter 65: The Cost of the Vigil
Victory, they learned, was not a destination but a state of constant, grinding repair. The defense of the North anchor had been a triumph of will, but it left scars. Kaelen's hands, raw from clinging to the granite in the corrosive water, healed slowly, the skin remaining pale and oddly numb. The bitter taste of the blight seemed to have seeped into his bones; he moved with a new stiffness, a coldness in his joints that the cottage's hearth had never known.
And it wasn't just physical. The anchor's memory Acceptance had required him to pour his relentless, unyielding will into it. In the days that followed, Elara noticed a subtle hollowing in him. He was present, tactical, devoted, but the quiet moments of wonder watching Aurora discover her toes, smiling at Lyra's silent jokes seemed to pass through him like light through glass. He had armored his soul to reinforce the anchor, and part of him remained locked in that defensive posture.
