---
John did not sleep like a normal person after that.
He slept like a man holding a cup of water in both hands while someone kept bumping his elbow. Every time his body started to sink into deeper rest, his mind snapped awake and checked the same things again. His mana. The anchor. The thin thread in his chest that now had a second weight on it.
He counted. He breathed. He held the line.
Fizz, for his part, slept like someone who had won a war and planned to brag about it tomorrow. He drifted in the air beside John's bed, curled into a glowing ball, paws tucked under his chin. A little spark popped from his fur now and then, harmless and proud, like a fire remembering it used to be a star.
Ray Flame did not wake once. He snored, rolled, and mumbled something about "hot soup being a conspiracy" and that was it. If the world ended in the dorm, Ray would probably sleep through that too, then complain in the morning that someone moved his blanket.
John kept listening anyway.
