The room had finally fallen into silence.
Elysia lay curled against Malvoria in their bed, the warmth of her wife's body a balm against the soft ache that still lingered in her limbs.
Pillows surrounded them like a makeshift fortress, and the softest blankets had been pulled up to their waists.
Only a few embers glowed in the hearth across the room, flickering gently against the carved obsidian walls.
Kaelith was asleep. Miraculously, completely, blissfully asleep.
That alone felt like a rare cosmic alignment. Their daughter fiery, grinning, perpetually awake Kaelith had spent the past week in an unholy war against the concept of sleep itself.
She preferred to burn things. Blankets. Sleeves. Once, an unfortunate scroll.
Malvoria had declared it "spirited," Elysia had declared it "terrifying," and together they'd declared sleep a mythical creature only whispered about in legends.
