Thorne hadn't slept in ten days.
Not because he wouldn't— he couldn't.
He sat slouched in the chair near the window, shadows under his eyes like bruises, a leather folder in his lap. The pages inside it had long stopped making sense. He flipped through them anyway.
Across the room was Caelum, watching him keenly, lips pressed into a thin line as though he were trying so hard not to state the obvious.
"It's been ten days, Thorne," he finally said, unable to keep quiet any longer.
Thorne didn't look up. "I know."
"You haven't slept."
Thorne exhaled. "It happens after the full moon," he murmured.
"But it's more intense this time… Ten days is a lot," Caelum replied, pausing for a second, hesitating. "Should I have the tea brought again?"
Thorne finally looked up, his expression tired but firm. "No. It's not working anymore."
