Strax woke slowly, not because he was tired, but because his body simply wasn't in a hurry. The room was still bathed in the soft twilight of the morning, broken only by the light escaping through the heavy curtains. The scent of rumpled sheets, old incense, and polished wood filled the air.
He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around.
Kryssia slept on her side, her hair spread across the pillow, its light blue strands reflecting like the sea, her breathing slow and deep.
Xenovia was closer, partially curled up in the sheets, one hand resting on her abdomen, the tranquil expression of someone who had finally switched off from the world.
Strax observed the two for a few seconds, in absolute silence.
A small—honest—smile appeared on his face.
