The ambient glow of the Obsidian Sanctum's ethereal lighting shifted to its softer morning hue, a gentle warmth that suggested the start of a new day cycle in their timeless realm. Samantha stirred first, as she always did, her internal clock perfectly attuned to Nova's feeding schedule despite the Sanctum's lack of natural time markers. The nursery looked blissfully, wonderfully normal—soft pastels instead of cosmic swirls, cotton blankets instead of woven starlight, and not a single interdimensional dragon in sight.
She allowed herself a moment of pure relief, watching magical dust motes dance in the ambient light like tiny, perfectly ordinary fairies. The previous day cycle's adventure already felt like a vivid dream, the kind that leaves you questioning reality until you stub your toe on something decidedly real and mundane.
