[Silthara Palace—The Next Dawn—Emperor's Chamber]
The first light of morning seeped through the lattice windows of the Consort's Wing—soft, muted, almost shy. It painted pale gold across the silken sheets where Levin still lay curled beneath the blankets.
He hadn't slept deeply; his body rested, but his heart did not.
Levin opened his eyes slowly. The space beside him remained empty—cool, untouched—and though he expected it, the sight still tightened something small and painful inside his chest.
No tall serpent emperor curled protectively around him, no strong arm draped over his waist, and there was no warmth.
Just the faint lingering scent of lotus and sand. Levin sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. He whispered into the quiet chamber:
"…I must not dwell on this." His voice was steady, but the ache beneath it was not.
