Morning came quietly, though it did little to ease the weight still settled in my chest. The pain from the night before had dulled, but it had not disappeared entirely. It lingered, faint but stubborn, a reminder that none of it had been a dream.
For a moment, I remained still beneath the covers, staring up at the canopy above my bed while pale morning light filtered through the curtains in soft, muted tones. My hand drifted, almost unconsciously, to the emerald resting against my collarbone. It was calm now—cool to the touch, utterly harmless in appearance, as though it had never burned through me, as though it had not nearly torn me apart from the inside.
[Host survived mysterious magical overload. Congratulations.]
I exhaled quietly, the sound barely more than a breath.
A knock came at the door, sharp enough to pull me fully back into the present.
"Come in," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
