Elias woke with a strange weight in his chest.
Not pain or panic.
Something close to pressure.
It sat just beneath his sternum, dull and constant, like a hand resting there without permission.
He lay still, staring at the ceiling of his room as the early light crept through the narrow window, dust drifting lazily through the beam.
His breathing was even and his heart felt steady.
Nothing was wrong.
And that was the problem.
He extended the damping side of his magic instinctively—just a fraction, the way one might stretch stiff fingers after sleep.
The response lagged.
Not much. A heartbeat at most.
But Elias noticed it immediately.
And then the field snapped into place a moment later, clean and obedient, smoothing the hum of the room into silence.
He frowned.
'Fatigue.' He told himself.
The last few days had been long.
The Vesper-Trap had required more attention than anticipated.
'Refinement always carried a cost...'
