Arran awoke at the first light of dawn, more tired than he had been the night before. He had only managed to fall asleep when morning was already approaching, and even in those few short hours, he had woken up at least half a dozen times.
The more he thought about the Essence Remnant, the more it bothered him. And it wasn't the creature's power that unsettled him. Rather, it was that the beast — if it could be called that — seemed as if it didn't belong to the world, like a nightmare that had taken a physical form.
But if Arran had slept little, Brightblade appeared not to have slept at all. She was still in the exact same place as the previous night, watching both paths to the plateau with focused eyes.
"Any sign of Remnants tonight?" Arran asked.
"None," she replied. "But then, they usually stay down in the valleys. This far up, there's no real risk of running into them."
