Akira's POV
I woke up at six in the morning. My heart running faster than usual, my face still warm and the full understanding of what I had just dreamed about sitting in my chest with entirely nowhere to go.
I lay on my back and looked at the ceiling. Then realized that staring at the ceiling was unhelpful.
So I got up, washed my face with cold water, stood in the kitchen drinking tea I had made too strong, and I told myself with the focused discipline of someone who had managed harder things, that this was a dream and dreams were the brain processing things it hadn't finished with during waking hours.
I also tried convincing myself it meant nothing beyond the fact that I had been in a dungeon behind a column with Kael Vixar few days ago and my brain had decided to continue the scene without consulting me.
The idea was exactly what I needed it to be. Reasonable. Manageable. Fine.
I was fine.
