~Amias's Point Of View~
Dawn crawls into Amias's room like an unwanted guest. The sunlight hits his face even though he purposely left the curtains half-drawn to avoid sensory responsibility. He opens his eyes slowly in the way a person does when sleep didn't help, didn't heal, and didn't erase anything, but instead decided to marinate him further in emotional exhaustion.
His wolf, Vark, is too quiet, and silent wolves are basically walking red flags.
Amias lies still for a moment, staring at the ceiling like he's expecting it to drop a life manual. His body feels heavy, like everything inside him has decided to move in slow motion. His chest aches with that horrible, persistent pressure that comes from the truth he doesn't speak, half-formed grief, and emotional betrayal he placed upon himself.
The worst part is that he already misses her. Which is stupid.
And pathetic.
And unfair.
And completely true.
