The house slept.
Only the soft ticking of the kitchen clock and the patter of rain against the windows revealed that the world hadn't stopped.
I lay in bed, blanket pulled up to my chin, the necklace clutched tightly between my fingers. The pendant rested heavy in my hand, cold like metal that had absorbed something of the night itself.
Sleep wouldn't come.
Only thoughts.
The doctor's words, the harshness in my father's voice, my mother's silence. And the image that remained: Alaric in the rain, motionless, as if he were part of it.
I turned over, looking toward the window. The sky outside was black, but the water glistened in the streetlights. The rain had eased, now falling only in fine threads, as if even it had lost its strength.
I couldn't stand it anymore.
Quietly, almost floating, I pushed the blanket aside and placed my feet on the cold floor. The floorboards barely creaked, but every sound felt like it could wake the entire world.
