CHAPTER 230: MORNING IN IRON HEARTH
Rianor Sudrath woke up only when the clock hands were already pointing at ten.
It was the most extraordinary thing that had happened to him in months—not the feat of taking down a giant Golem or discovering a lost city, but simply sleeping. A deep, sound sleep, free from the intrusion of nightmares about hissing neck valves or the bloodthirsty red glare of a Juggernaut. Gulp. He swallowed; his throat felt dry and stiff.
The sun was already high when he opened his eyes. Golden light pierced through the gaps in the curtains, creating dancing dust motes above the wooden floor. Beside him, Elara was already awake. She sat leaning against the headboard with a small notebook in her lap—the one that never left her hand. Sret... sret... the rhythmic scratching of a quill against paper filled the room.
"Hmm, you're still here," Rianor murmured. His voice was raspy, typical of someone who had just been forcefully pulled from the realm of dreams.
