Chapter 24. The Shape of Belonging

Mira woke buried beneath a mountain of warmth.

Furs and blankets encased her like a cocoon, soft and dense, the air thick with the lingering scent of woodsmoke, pine, and something faintly wild. For a moment, she didn’t move. She simply breathed.

Her body didn’t ache.

Her head wasn’t pounding.

She blinked up at the canvas ceiling above, the soft filtered light hinting at morning beyond the tent walls, and let herself feel it—the strange, tentative absence of pain. And then, abruptly, she laughed. A quiet, breathless thing. It escaped before she could stop it.

She stretched, feeling the stiffness in her limbs give way to something looser, more alive.

But Kaelen was gone.

The space beside her was cold. No lingering body heat, no steady rhythm of breath. Just her.

Mira sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and a second later the tent flap shifted.

Kaelen ducked inside.

The cold light outside framed him in soft silver, but t