Hours later, the moonlight shifted across the floor, silvering the heavy furs of the bed. Eris stirred. It wasn't a full awakening, but a slow, sluggish climb out of the depths of her mana-exhaustion.
She felt a weight, a presence that was different from the clinical air of the ritual room. She felt the feeling of a hand holding hers.
Her eyes flickered, barely opening, her vision clouded by the remnants of sleep. She felt a sudden, sharp pang of anxiety, the lingering residue of the sadness she'd felt in the dreamscape. Her hand searched the sheets, fingers brushing against Soren's. She squeezed his hand weakly, her touch desperate and grounding.
"Soren…?" her voice was a ghost of a sound, barely a rasp.
Soren, who hadn't moved a muscle for hours, immediately squeezed back. He leaned in, his face close to hers, masking the wreckage of his own heart with a mask of calm. "I'm here, Eris. I'm right here."
