The sky was pale blue when Ivan opened his eyes.
He blinked slowly, still half-asleep, his head resting beside Lydia's on the edge of the bed. A soft warmth lingered where her fingers had brushed against his hand sometime in the night. She was still sleeping, her breath slow, her hair scattered across the pillow like silk threads.
But Ivan's heart was far from calm.
His chest felt heavy. His thoughts wouldn't let him rest.
He sat up slowly, careful not to wake her. His hand hesitated in her hair for one last moment… then he pulled away.
He rose, walked quietly out of her room, and down the corridor.
No one saw him as he climbed the steps of the tower.
When he reached the top, the cold air hit him like a wave. The sun had just finished rising. Gold spilled across the snow-covered rooftops. The sky stretched wide and endless.
And on the bird rail, waiting as if it knew its message mattered — the owl.
Ivan walked to it quickly.
