The morning came quiet. No alarms. No arena bells. No Dorian Hale's voice thundering across the stands. Just pale sunlight filtering through the courtyard window and the distant sound of the city waking up.
Dominic slept later than he had in weeks. When he finally opened his eyes, Wobbly was on the pillow beside him, its glow restored to its usual steady blue. The three mana crystals Theresa had left on the nightstand were gone. Only empty grey husks remained. Wobbly burbled, content.
Tea was already waiting in the kitchen. Through the window, Dominic could see Florence in the courtyard, running through her morning drills. Her borrowed shirt was already dark with sweat. Her bare feet slapped the stone in a steady rhythm.
Theresa was at the table with her notes, a cup of tea cooling at her elbow. She'd pulled her hair back with a simple ribbon and wore a soft grey sweater against the morning chill. Her silk scarf was draped loosely around her neck.
