The days that followed the morning light were different.
Not dramatically—there were no grand declarations, no sweeping gestures, no moments of cinematic revelation. The change was subtle, almost imperceptible, like the first hints of spring after a long winter. But it was there, in the way Kaelen looked at me, in the way he sought me out, in the way his presence seemed to settle around me like a warm cloak.
We did not speak of the nightmares.
That was the unspoken agreement between us, the understanding that had grown in the darkness of his chambers, in the quiet hours before dawn. He did not explain the visions that haunted his sleep, and I did not ask. I simply held him when he cried out, and he held me when the terror passed. The words were unnecessary. The comfort was enough.
But during the day, something shifted.
Kaelen began to seek me out.
