Morning came differently.
Not louder.
Not brighter.
Just heavier.
The kind of morning that sat on your chest before you even opened your eyes — the kind where your body already knew something was coming before your mind caught up.
Jelo was awake before the others.
He lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet. Atlas was still asleep across the room, one arm hanging off the edge of the bed. Mira's side was still. The academy itself felt suspended — like everything was holding its breath.
He sat up slowly.
Rolled his fingers once.
The draconic essence responded immediately. Steady. Present. Waiting.
Good.
He stood.
⸻
He dressed without rushing.
No urgency. No nerves. Just the quiet deliberateness of someone who had already made peace with what the day was going to ask of them.
He looked at his hand briefly.
Opened it. Closed it.
