The next morning feels too quiet.
That’s what unsettles me most.
No alarms.
No shaking ground.
No violet threads weaving into my child’s sleep.
Just ordinary daylight filtering through compound glass.
But I don’t trust ordinary anymore.
I haven’t since the eclipse.
Asher wakes up calmer than I expect.
Too calm.
He sits at the edge of the bed, legs swinging, staring at his hands.
“You okay?” I ask carefully.
He nods.
Then shakes his head.
Then nods again.
“Do you remember your dream?” I sit beside him.
“A little.” His voice is thoughtful. “It felt… nice.”
My stomach tightens.
“Nice how?”
“She showed me trees made of light. And wolves that didn’t have to hide their eyes.” He looks up at me. “She said I wouldn’t have to hide either.”
I keep my breathing steady.
“She’s wro
