Gabriel stepped out of the bath with his skin still warm from the heat. He pulled on the fresh tunic Mera had left for him, the fabric clinging as it settled, damp enough to catch the light. The ache in his muscles had eased, but the weight of what had passed through the day remained.
He finished dressing and bent to pick up the robe that concealed the book he had taken from the temple. His fingers brushed its cover, searching for something he could not name. There was nothing. No vibration, no pressure, no sense of presence. Only silence.
He set the book on the floor and fastened the robe. Mera had told him to burn it, but the garment was thick and well made, dark blue with fur lining worked along the inside and into the hood. Destroying something of that quality felt unnecessary. A tailor could repair it.
