The Rusted Antler Inn—a decaying waystation left behind in the Greyhorn Pass—began its morning in pale ash-gray. Light filtered through gaps in the roof, drawing thin lines across the weathered floorboards. Elara woke on a blanket against the wall and stared at the ceiling for a while. The sensation from last night still lingered in her palm. When she'd touched Kael's arm to check the wound, that low body temperature. After breaking the suture prohibition and approaching the Seam of Lamentation, his warmth had never fully returned to human heat. It had remained ever since—a small weight lodged deep in her chest. Elara rose quietly and looked toward Kael. He was already awake, leaning against the wall. The black of his eye patch, silver-gray hair falling across his cheek. His jade eye turned toward her. "...Your body temperature," Elara said. Kael paused for a beat, then spoke quietly. "It's returned." As if to confirm, Elara reached out her right hand. She touched Kael's right