The dawn shattered softly against the chamber windows, pale light spilling through the cracks in the shutters. For a fragile moment, Ryon remained still, his arm draped over Lyria's waist, her warmth pressed against him like the last tether holding him to peace. Her breath rose and fell steadily, lips parted slightly, lashes brushing against her cheeks. She slept like someone who had stolen safety from a world determined to deny it.
Ryon almost let himself drift with her, to sink into the rhythm of her body against his. Almost.
The system's whisper came first—low, dissonant, a thread winding through his half-dream.
"Time expires. The vow binds tighter. Choices demand blood."
His eyes snapped open. For a moment he thought it was still in his head, that echo of a voice no one else could hear. But then the shutters rattled violently, struck by the wind outside, and the spell of quiet was broken.
