Alistair and Lysander watched him twist and turn in his sleep, worried.
The candle had burned low. The room was quiet. The night pressed against the windows like a living thing, dark and patient and full of eyes. Kaelen lay on the bed, his brow furrowed, his lips moving, his hands clenching and unclenching the blanket. Teeth grinding with each clench.
"Do you think he will be fine?" Alistair asked, smoothing Kaelen's furrowed brows with his soothing magic. His blue eyes were soft. His stone hand rested on the edge of the bed, warm and steady.
"It's not his first time doing this," Lysander said, though a little unsure. His gold eye was fixed on Kaelen's face. His ordinary eye was fixed on the window.
"The Hollow King is a dreamer. Kaelen has always had a hard time with things that pertain to mental use."
"He will be fine, I'm sure."
"The dreams are changing," Lysander added quietly. "From predictions to what is happening in reality."
