The room was quiet except for the sound of Sai's breathing.
Shallow. Still ragged at the edges, each inhale pulling through her gills in soft, clicking intervals. The water-blue glow on her skin had settled into something ambient—barely a pulse, like moonlight on a still sea.
She lay exactly where he'd left her, sprawled across the crimson silk, tail curled slightly, one arm thrown over her eyes. Small chest rising and falling. The scales on her ribs still catching the chamber's warm light, throwing tiny prisms across the walls in shifting patterns.
Alive. Recovering.
Tianlong stood at the edge of the bed, pulled back the sleeve of his robe, and cracked his fingers. One by one. Slow, deliberate pops.
"You can rest," he said.
Sai didn't respond with words. Her fingers twitched once against the sheets—acknowledgment, maybe. Or just muscle memory.
He looked at her for a moment longer than necessary.
Then turned and walked out.
