By the third dawn after the snow bridge—as the echo countdown beneath Seyun’s left collarbone ticked cleanly to Day 3 of 7—the cold and exact power inside the linen-curtained ward had shifted in a way no sect hierarchy would have recognized. Seyun sat on the corner stool near the hearth with his Account Book across his lap, practicing slow, seated Returning Step breath switches to prepare his channels for Dawn 7 while logging the ward’s progress.
Between the three cedar pallets, Pera was in charge. Ten years ago on the northern salt trail, a winter rockslide had crushed Pera’s left shin against a wagon tongue. That left a crooked bone callus four inches above her ankle.
Chief Examiner Vaska Ren wired her into Bed Two at the Hollow Summit. Then, that old caravan injury had proved to be her unexpected salvation. Her left leg channel had to push past the bone callus first. Because of that, her own personal Coal breath always caused a distinct prickling warmth behind her left knee and foot arch half a heartbeat before the summit pillar’s downward pressure arrived. Now she turned that hard-won survival instinct into a practical training list for Vey.
At the foot of Vey’s bed, Pera had untucked the bottom edge of the wool blanket so the smooth, unheated cedar footboard remained bare.
