The wayhouse stayed warm.
Not just the hearth and stew and blankets—warmth in the way people moved around Elowen like she was glass that had already cracked once, and they were careful not to press the wrong place.
I sat bundled on Elowen's lap, star-blanket tucked under my chin like I'd agreed to become a tiny burrito against my will.
Elowen fed me the last few spoonfuls slowly, watching my face like she could read my core loop through my eyelashes.
"You're slowing," Mira the healer murmured, hands hovering near my chest again without touching. "That's good. That means your loop is settling."
Sable crossed her arms, satisfied. "The legendary sword is… full."
"I'm not full," I muttered.
My stomach made a happy little noise that betrayed me.
The cook gasped like she'd won a prize.
Maera stood by the door, watching the wardline through a slit in the curtain. "We keep voices low. If the caster is still sniffing, we don't give them a beacon."
Sable flicked two fingers in a salute. "Yes, bossy."
Maera didn't react.
Elowen did, though—her shoulders eased a fraction, like the room's gentle chaos was doing something the wards couldn't: making her remember how to breathe.
My eyes felt heavy.
Not the normal sleepy heavy.
A soft pull from inside me—like the sword form was calling, the way a bed calls after a long day.
My anchor hummed, steady but tired.
Mira noticed immediately. "She's reaching her limit."
"I'm fine," I insisted automatically.
Elowen didn't argue this time. She just lowered the spoon and rested her hand against my back—warm, steady, the same anchoring touch she'd used in the sling.
"Rin," she whispered, "tell me what you feel."
I tried to focus.
The room was slightly too bright.
The voices were slightly too far away.
My thoughts felt like they were sinking into warm water.
"I feel…" I swallowed, fighting the fog, "like… I'm being pulled inward."
Mira nodded. "That's the construct wanting to re-seat. It's not an attack. It's recovery."
Elowen's jaw tightened anyway. "Is it safe?"
Mira's gaze softened. "Yes. She's safe. This is what she should've done before she hit dormancy outside."
The words stung, but… they were right.
My eyelids fluttered.
My head tipped forward and bumped lightly into Elowen's chest.
She caught me instantly, arm wrapping around my shoulders.
"Hey," she murmured.
I tried to lift my head.
It wobbled.
Another tiny giggle bubbled up—weak and sleepy, like my body didn't even have the strength to be embarrassed.
Sable whispered dramatically, "She's powering down."
Maera muttered from the door, "Don't narrate it."
Sable whispered back, "I can't help it."
Elowen ignored them both. Her voice stayed with me, low and steady.
"Rin," she said through the bond, "ask first."
My throat tightened, even in the fog.
I managed the smallest nod.
"Mommy…" I whispered, voice barely there, "can I… go back… for a little?"
Elowen's breath hitched softly—relief and sadness tangled together.
"Yes," she answered immediately. "Yes. You can rest."
My eyes stung again, but it was too late to cry. My body had already decided.
I clutched her cloak weakly.
"Don't… put me somewhere," I mumbled. "Don't… let them lock—"
Elowen cupped the back of my head, pressing my forehead gently to her collarbone.
"Never," she whispered. "You stay with me."
Mira stepped closer, voice gentle. "Elowen—hold her blade when she re-seats. It'll help her loop settle cleanly."
Elowen nodded once.
Maera moved away from the door for the first time since we arrived, just long enough to slide a ward token onto the table—extra protection.
"No one enters," Maera said to the room. "No one touches the sword. No one."
The room went quiet.
Even the cook stopped breathing like a dramatic person.
Elowen shifted me carefully—one arm supporting my back, the other steady under my legs—lifting me fully like a baby again.
I didn't have the strength to protest.
My blanket slipped.
Elowen tucked it back around me.
My eyelids fluttered.
Everything blurred at the edges.
I felt my sword form waiting—cool and familiar—like a place to curl up inside.
> *Stay,* Elowen's voice whispered through the bond. *Even if you sleep.*
> *I'll be… right here,* I tried to answer.
But the words didn't come out clean.
My core loop pulsed, once, twice—then folded inward like a candle being sheltered.
Light wrapped around me in a soft spiral.
No flare.
No beacon.
Just a gentle return.
My child form dissolved into runes—
and Elowen's hands caught my hilt as Lumenward reappeared in her grasp, quiet and warm from her touch.
My runes dimmed to a soft ember.
Then dimmed further.
Not gone.
Resting.
Elowen drew my sheathed form close against her chest like she did when I was in the sling—arms wrapped around the scabbard like it was a sleeping child.
She whispered into the silence, voice shaking just a little:
"You're safe."
Mira nodded, satisfied. "Good. She re-seated cleanly."
Sable's eyes were wet, which she tried to hide by clearing her throat loudly. "Legendary sword bedtime."
Maera's tone was flat, but gentler than before. "Let her rest."
Elowen didn't move from the chair.
She sat there with me held tight, blanket tucked over my sheath like it mattered, thumb drawing slow circles along the leather wrap at my hilt—an anchor made of touch.
The room resumed quiet motion around her—soft steps, lowered voices, someone adding wood to the fire.
And inside the dark of my resting steel, I drifted down.
Not into fear.
Not into absence.
Into sleep that felt… safe.
Because the last thing I sensed before everything went quiet was Elowen's heartbeat against my sheath, steady and stubborn, and her whisper that followed me like a promise:
"I'm not going anywhere."