Five interlocking oak beams crossed the nursery ceiling.
Elias had spent the last two weeks memorizing the knots in them.
He lay on his back beneath a quilted wool blanket while afternoon heat pressed through the Kaelithar manor. The city outside smelled of clay dust and warm stone. Market carts clattered somewhere below the terraces.
His right hand rested beside his cheek.
He focused on it until the rest of the room narrowed to fingers, wrist, elbow, and shoulder. The command was simple enough for a child to understand and too much for this body to obey.
Lift.
The command left his mind cleanly. His body ruined it on arrival. His shoulder twitched, his bicep tightened, and his fingers curled against the sheet. The arm stayed down.
Frustration burned in his throat.
The worst part was the clarity. Elias knew exactly what should happen. Shoulder engages, bicep follows, elbow stabilizes, wrist stays neutral. The map existed in his head. The road did not exist in the body.
