Jax woke to the quiet sound of Mira crying.
It wasn't loud enough to startle him upright, nor sharp enough to fully pull him from sleep at once. It was the softer kind of crying,the kind that leaked through dreams instead of breaking them. For a moment he lay still, listening to the uneven cadence of her breathing and trying to decide whether waking her would help or only make things worse.
He could reach for her.
He should reach for her.
Instead, he remained where he was.
"She's going to need the rest," he murmured to himself, the words more justification than certainty.
Carefully, slowly, he eased himself out of bed.
"James," she whispered.
The name stopped him.
It did not belong to him. It never had.
He stood there longer than he meant to, watching her face for some shift in expression, some explanation. None came. A few shallow breaths, a faint snore, and then she settled again, her chest rising and falling in steady rhythm.
"I wonder what she's dreaming about," he said quietly. "I hope it's not a nightmare."
He moved through his morning routine as he always did, stretching first, then cycling mana slowly through his hands, anchoring himself in repetition. Routine helped. Routine meant control. And control meant the world made sense.
When he passed the mirror, he paused.
He needed to shave.
He ran a hand along his jaw and studied the reflection staring back at him. The face looked older than it had a week ago. Not in years, but in weight.
"Maybe I'll keep it," he muttered. "Maybe Mira will think I'm more mature."
The thought sounded foolish as soon as it left his mouth.
He leaned a fraction closer to the glass.
For the briefest instant, the reflection felt wrong,not distorted, not warped, just slightly delayed. As if it had taken an extra breath before responding.
He blinked.
It aligned perfectly.
"You're tired," he told himself quietly.
As he reached the door, Mira stirred.
"Wait… you're leaving without me again."
Her voice was thick with sleep, but there was something beneath it…something that sounded closer to fear than annoyance.
"Breakfast," he said gently. "I'll be back before you wake."
She rolled onto her side, half-conscious.
"Don't…"
The word faded before it finished forming.
He lingered in the doorway for a second longer than usual, then forced himself to leave.
Downstairs, April looked up from behind the counter as he entered.
"You're up early," she observed.
"Training," Jax replied. "Can you save breakfast for us? I'll be back shortly."
April studied him for a moment. "You two look like you haven't slept properly in days."
He didn't answer.
"I'll have food ready," she said. "Try not to run yourselves into the ground."
"We'll try."
He stepped outside before she could say anything more.
The morning air was cool against his skin.
He trained harder than usual,footwork drills along the outer perimeter, stone shaping against a flat outcropping until his palms ached, mana cycling until his breathing settled into something controlled and distant.
But even in motion, his thoughts drifted.
James.
The rods.
The way the hobgoblin's back had pulsed.
The receptionist's face when she heard the word black.
When the sun crested the trees, he realized he had stayed out longer than intended.
He returned to the inn quickly, grabbed the plates April had prepared, and headed upstairs.
"I hope she's still asleep," he muttered as he opened the door.
"Where were you?"
Mira stood near the bed, hair tangled, eyes rimmed red.
"I told you to stop leaving without me."
Her voice carried anger, but it trembled beneath the surface.
"I don't like waking up and you're not there," she continued, quieter now. "Please stop leaving me alone."
The vulnerability hit harder than any accusation.
Jax crossed the room without hesitation and pulled her into him.
"I'm sorry," he said immediately. "I didn't know it bothered you like that."
She clutched the front of his shirt.
"I know it's stupid," she whispered.
"It's not."
He meant that.
He did not ask about the name she had spoken in her sleep.
She did not offer it.
After a moment she stepped back, embarrassed, and wiped at her face.
"It was a joke," she insisted weakly. "I wasn't really upset."
He nodded as if he believed her.
"I brought breakfast."
That earned a small, genuine smile.
They ate together quietly.
The silence was not awkward.
It was heavy.
Both of them avoiding words that felt too large for morning light.
After dressing and gathering their things, they stopped by Takeo's shop before leaving town.
The behemoth listened to Jax's apology with a booming laugh.
"You two take care of each other," Takeo said. "Out there, it's just you."
"I'll always have her back," Jax replied without hesitation, hands tightening unconsciously at his sides.
Takeo's eyes lingered on him a moment longer.
"Make sure she has yours too."
They left shortly after.
"I still think he scammed us," Mira muttered as they walked. "There's no way that cup was worth that much."
"That was three days of work," Jax replied. "Consider it a lesson."
"Don't touch shiny things," she said firmly, though the determination on her face was only half convincing.
The road stretched ahead.
Morning light caught her hair and made it gleam.
He looked away before he stared too long.
"If we push hard, we can cut a full day off travel," she said.
"Endurance training," he agreed. "If we're diving again, we need to last longer."
She mirrored his stretches beside him.
He noticed.
He always noticed.
"How long can you go?" she asked.
"Three hours," he replied. Then, more quietly, "Don't separate from me."
She smiled faintly.
"I won't. Probably."
They began to run.
The village slowly faded behind them.
Boots struck dirt in steady rhythm.
Breathing aligned.
Neither of them noticed the faint tremor that passed beneath the road moments after they crossed the boundary marker.
It was subtle.
Easily dismissed.
Ravelin waited ahead.
Unchanged.
For now.