Atlas slept deeper than he had in days.
The second naming and the banked fire had settled under the weight of the circle. Lara's hand remained over the center of his chest. Eli's arm stayed across his waist.
Clara's quieter presence closed the shape from the outer edge. For a stretch of hours the residual clarity of every previous decision rested without cutting.
Lara woke first.
She lay still long enough to confirm his breathing had evened into true sleep. The rise and fall of his chest under her palm was steady. No tremor. No half-wake tension.
She eased free of the bed without shifting the mattress more than necessary. Dressed in the dark by touch—boots, coat, the short blade at her hip. She touched Eli's shoulder once.
He opened his eyes without sound, already reading the set of her face. Clara was already awake, sitting up on the outer edge of the mattress, ledger still within reach on the floor.
