We decided I wouldn't fully take the shield down. Instead, I would pull my magic back from the core of the enchantment, leaving the geometric lines of the Eis-Vara symbol resting dormant in the dark oak above our pillows. Keeping the physical anchor meant the framework was there; if the dreamscapes became too volatile or if I simply needed a night of absolute, unbroken silence, I could channel my energy back into the wood and slam the iron gate shut again.
But for now, I had to get my strength back.
The reality of our situation was brutal but simple: when my father had been invading my dreams, I woke up angry, violated, and emotionally spent—but physically whole. I hadn't been waking up too weak to stand. The constant brute-force drain of the shield was a slow suicide, and if he chose to
