I woke to sunlight.
It was not the bright, golden light of the South but the pale, diffused glow of a northern morning filtering through the narrow window of my chamber. It fell across the fur in soft stripes, warming the stone floor and painting the walls in shades of grey and silver.
For a long moment, I simply lay there, letting consciousness return slowly. My body was a symphony of aches—every muscle protested, every bruise throbbed, every cut pulled tight as I shifted. But beneath the pain, something else stirred. Satisfaction. Pride. The memory of victory.
The ember in my core pulsed gently, a steady warmth that had become as familiar as my own heartbeat. It was dimmer than yesterday, still recovering from the exertion of the trial, but it was there. Waiting. Ready.
