Cold water hammered against black tile hard enough to sting.
Steam clung heavily to the bathroom mirrors while pale dawn filtered weakly through the frosted windows overlooking the distant city beyond Artemis Tower. A discarded coat lay crumpled near the sink beside damp silk pooled carelessly across the floor.
Galathea Brooks stood beneath the shower with one hand braced flat against the smooth marble wall.
The marks on her arms hurt worse today.
Not burning.
Pulling.
A deep, ugly heaviness dragged beneath muscle and bone like invisible hooks curling downward through her skin. Cold water usually sharpened her focus. Usually helped force her body back into itself.
This morning it only made the pressure heavier.
She tipped her head back against the cold, hard wall and forced herself to breathe evenly while water streamed down dark hair and bare shoulders.
The dream still lingered behind her eyes.
Crystal. Statues. Cael reaching for her.
