The palace of Nevareth did not sleep so much as it held its breath, a vast stone beast suspended in the deep, freezing gut of the night. It had been two days since the world had fractured, two days since the man who was her anchor had vanished into a crack in the sky.
Eris moved through the corridors like a wraith. In the daylight, she wore her authority like armor, her spine a column of unbreakable marble, but the dark stripped the lacquer away.
Two days of silence looked different on her when no one was watching. Her appetite, once ravenous as she fueled the four lives including hers currently inhabiting her skin, had simply evaporated.
The trays of rich meats and spiced broths went back to the kitchens untouched, cold and stagnant.
It wasn't merely tiredness.
It was a profound, systemic depletion.
She felt as though a tap had been opened at the base of her throat, and her very essence was draining away faster than her body could replenish it.
