Chapter 3: The Weight of Years

The sun was a blood-orange smear on the horizon when they left the Broken Bell behind. Yan’s steps were lighter now, the stolen years thrumming through his veins like a second heartbeat—a warm, insistent pulse that pushed back the cold creep of the Sigh. He flexed his fingers, watching the steadiness return to his hands, and felt the familiar weight of his own flesh settle around him. Four years,...