The sensation of her clenched fist still lingered in her right hand. During last night's watch, it had floated just a few centimeters, stopped, and then withdrawn—the memory of that hand. Unable to sleep through the night, Aira still crouched before the settlement's bonfire this morning, stirring a pot of lamb stew. Every time she woke, she tried not to think about it. She moved like this to avoid thinking. The Emerald Twilight Forest—the deep woods that spread across the southern foothills of the Jade Peak Mountains in the empire's east, where the demon race had dwelled since ancient times—had a particular quality to its morning light. Rays filtering through the gaps in the branches carved thin lines across the stone pavement, and birdsong echoed distantly. The air was still cold, breath visible as white mist. Mornings like this had continued. Peaceful and quiet, mornings where one couldn't tell if something had changed last night or remained the same. "Another beautiful day," Lil