Nathan woke to sunlight streaming through the inn's thin curtains.
He lay still for a moment, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. The wooden beams were rough-hewn, the plaster cracked, the whole room smelling faintly of old hay and candle wax. It wasn't the cramped studio apartment he'd shared with Lucy, nor was it the Celestial Peak guild hall. It was just another reminder that he was far from home.
He pushed himself up and reached for Moonlight. The bow was leaning against the wall, exactly where he'd left it. Its familiar weight was a small comfort.
'Good morning, Master,' Mirko's voice came through the link, warm and steady. 'You slept well.'
"Did I?"
'You did not thrash or mutter. That is progress.'
Nathan almost smiled. "I'll take it."
He dressed quickly—simple clothes today, nothing that would draw attention—and headed downstairs. The innkeeper, a plump woman with flour on her apron, handed him a roll of bread and a cup of watered wine.
