DYERNight settles over the den like a weight, thick and suffocating. I don’t bother lighting a fire. The cold feels earned, no, deserved. It fills the space the way silence fills a grave, pressing against my skin, pushing into the cracks I’ve been pretending don’t exist.

I drag a hand over my face and lower myself onto the edge of the bed. It creaks under my weight, familiar and unfamiliar all at once. I’ve slept here for weeks now, but the room still feels wrong. Empty in a way no ...