Alaric POV
The study was too quiet. Not the kind of quiet that brought peace. Not the kind that settled into the bones and let a man breathe. This silence pressed. It lingered. It waited.
Alaric sat at his desk, the dim light from a single lamp casting long shadows across the walls. The rest of the room was swallowed in darkness, heavy and unmoving. He hadn't called for anyone. Not Kael. Not the servants. Not even Mei.
But she was still there. Not in the room. Not physically. In him.
The bond pulsed. Slow. Measured. Alive. It had not settled since the courtyard. It had changed. Before, it had been something fragile. A thread. A quiet connection he could ignore when it became too much. Something he could push aside when guilt rose too high, when memories clawed too deep.
Now—it refused to be ignored. It moved through him like something with intent. Like something that had finally decided to wake up.
