BLOOD CRESCENT
FAYE
I had learned very quickly that keeping busy was better than sitting still.
Sitting still made my thoughts too loud.
And lately, my thoughts had been… different.
Sharper.
Faster.
Active in a way I couldn’t fully explain.
It wasn’t frustration.
Not exactly.
It was more like my entire body had forgotten how to be idle.
As if something inside me had been rewired and hadn’t quite settled back into place since Stonevale.
Since being sacrificed.
Since dying.
And then coming back.
Even now, days later, I could still feel it sometimes—that strange undercurrent beneath my skin, like energy waiting for direction. Like my body didn’t fully understand that I was supposed to slow down anymore.
So I didn’t.
I moved.
I worked.
I filled every gap in my day with somet
