For once, no nightmares.
No shadows.
Just silence.
Julian slept like a child, his body surrendering at last. Even the 05:00 rule—his sacred ritual—was abandoned. Today, rest was law.
Crest had risen at dawn, as always. She glanced at his door, hand lingering near the handle, but did not enter. She knew. The boy needed this.
When Julian finally stirred, sunlight had long claimed the room.
11:30 AM.
He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and sat up with a groan that turned into a chuckle.
"That… was the best sleep I've ever had."
His voice was hoarse, the kind of rasp that came only after deep, dreamless slumber.
The sheets clung to his skin, still carrying the faint warmth of his body, and the air in the room felt heavier, quieter—as though even the house itself had wanted him to rest.
His throat rasped, so he reached for the glass of water on the nightstand. Cool liquid slid down, chasing away the last fog of sleep.
