Jason couldn't stay inside that room any longer.
The walls felt like they were closing in. The air was thick with the smell of old wood, sweat, and whatever cheap soap the inn used on its sheets. Ylva was still curled up on the floor, her breathing slow and even, her tail wrapped around her legs like a blanket. Thalion lay sprawled across the bed, his silver hair fanned out on the pillow, his pale face slack with deep, exhausted sleep.
Neither of them stirred as Jason stood up, stepped over Ylva's outstretched tail, and pulled the door open.
The hallway was dark. A single lantern flickered at the far end, casting long shadows across the creaking floorboards. Jason moved quietly, his bare feet cold against the wood, and made his way down the stairs and out the front door of the Feather's Rest.
The night air hit him like a slap.
Cold. Sharp. Clean.
