Sometime before dawn, the rain stopped.
By the time Marron woke, the world outside had gone still. Lumeria's cobblelstones reflected the gray sky like dull metal: dark and slick.
Water dripped from eaves in slow, patient rhythms, as if the city itself were counting breaths.
Marron lay on her back for a long moment, staring at the ceiling.
She could still taste brown sugar.
That, more than anything, told her she hadn't dreamed the night before.
Her body ached—hips bruised from training, shoulders stiff, the familiar low hum of exhaustion in her bones—but there was a softness under it now. Not relief. Not peace. Just… something less sharp. Like a knot that had loosened half a turn.
At her hip, the Blade rested quietly. Not pulsing. Not intruding.
Lucy hovered in her jar by the window, awake now, her glow a muted gold that brightened slightly when Marron sat up.
"Morning," Marron murmured.
Lucy flickered once, then settled again.
