The morning after saving the world smelled like Starlight Tea and sunlight.
I woke at 7 AM. Not 4 AM — not the pre-dawn cultivation hour that had been my default since arriving. Seven. A number that normal people woke up at. A number that suggested sleep had been deep and uninterrupted and free of the particular alertness that came from knowing the floor beneath you was slowly losing its structural integrity.
The floor was fine now. Ninety-four percent. Self-sustaining. The heartbeat below was slow and peaceful and the tendrils had withdrawn and the dungeon was quiet.
I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling and tried to remember the last time I'd woken up without an immediate crisis demanding my attention.
I couldn't.
