The circular table dissolved first, then the masked figures one by one, and finally the minimalist white-and-black walls peeled away at the edges like burning paper until there was nothing left at all.
Then I was awake back in my room, sighing the breath of relief that I didn't suddenly die in my sleep.
The first thing I registered after that was warmth pressed against my side, small and steady.
I looked down.
Adelheid was sleeping beside me, her cheek rested against my arm with the kind of unconscious trust that only children manage without thinking about it.
Her black hair spread across the pillow in a loose tangle. Her chest rose and fell in a slow, even rhythm, and I could feel her heartbeat against my forearm—quiet and consistent, as real as any heartbeat I had ever felt from a living person.
Which was remarkable, because she was a Gnome.
