It was dark—terribly dark.
A suffocating blackness engulfed everything, as though the land itself had been swallowed by the absence of light. There was no sign of the moon's radiance, no stars above to pierce the void. The wasteland lay bare beneath a sky bereft of comfort, where not even the eerie glow of the dark moon could reach. It was either the heavy curtain of night or perhaps something worse—the heat, the exhaustion, maybe both—had sunken his vision into blindness, past even the lids of his eyes.
Kairos stirred.
He could feel his body. But it was heavy—unnaturally heavy. As if unseen chains had been wrapped around his limbs, holding him down. His hands throbbed with soreness, stiff and aching. His lips were cracked and dry, and his throat burned, making each swallow feel like shards of glass were sliding down. Breathing through his nostrils stung, as if inhaling ash.
He didn't know where he was.
And yet… he did.
