Aslan’s bedroom had quietly … compacted itself. Neatly. A lot less things on the dresser. In the dresser. Including that beloved Quran of their father’s, and a few small keepsakes. The coded journals, gone. A few books from the shelves, gone. That little plate he burned lavender on, gone.

The bills box … lighter than it had been before he left.

His suitcase, however, was under the bed and as heavy as since they’d last moved.

It was still dark when Aslan snuck in like a burglar (as usual), fresh lavender sticking to his clothes once more.