The night stretched on like a taut rope. Dylan stayed awake far longer than he would have thought possible, eyes closed, repeating the exercise until exhaustion took over. His body refused to obey, his muscles trembled, his fingers twitched like twigs rattled by the wind, but his mind refused to give in. Between aborted sparks, he felt the faint warmth of that path he was learning to trace.
When sleep finally came, it was a brutal fall into a bottomless pit.
He collapsed there, on the packed earth floor, slumped against the cabin wall, his cheek pressed to his arm, the dull burn of essence still throbbing in his veins. Julius, silent, watched him drop without a word, then simply tossed another log on the fire before closing his own eyes.
⸻
At dawn, a thin ray of light pierced the gaps in the crude planks. Dylan opened his eyes, mouth dry, muscles heavy, but his mind strangely clear. The air was cool, thick with the dampness of the undergrowth.
