The bond did not let her sleep.
Not fully.
It didn't surge or alarm her, didn't flood her senses the way it had during conflict. Instead, it remained quietly awake, like a hand resting on the inside of her chest—present, steady, expectant.
She lay on her back beneath the thin shelter of stone and cloth, staring up at the paling sky as night loosened its hold. The stars faded slowly, reluctantly, as dawn crept in. Her body was exhausted, but her mind refused to follow.
The bond had changed.
Not dramatically.
Deliberately.
It no longer felt like a weight she carried or a field she projected. It felt… partitioned. Distributed. As though parts of its function now rested just slightly outside her skin, tethered but no longer dependent on her alone.
She turned her head slowly.
