The guest room at the Starlight household was draped in that particular shade of pre-dawn gray, a liminal space where the world felt suspended between the exhausted silence of night and the inevitable intrusion of day. The light was weak and uncertain, filtering through the curtains like ash.
On the left side of the bed, Elizabeth slept. She possessed the focused stillness of someone who didn't merely rest but recovered with military efficiency.
Her breathing was deep, rhythmic, and measured the steady pulse of a body that had been pushed to its limits and was now methodically rebuilding itself.
Rex sat on the right side of the bed, a shadow among shadows.
He remained motionless, monitoring his own internal state. The mark on his wrist hummed at its baseline, steady and quiet, the frantic energy of the divine domain visit having receded like a retreating tide.
