Morning came quietly.
There was no sunrise to announce its arrival. No warm hues painted the sky. No golden rays pierced through the heavens to chase away the darkness.
The world remained the same dull shade it had been for as long as Amon could remember. An endless blanket of grey clouds stretching across the sky, heavy and oppressive.
It was impossible to tell whether it was truly morning or simply another stagnant moment trapped between night and dusk.
Inside a small, shallow cave carved into the slope of a hill, Amon lay sprawled on the hard, uneven ground. His body was motionless, chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.
His expression was calm, almost peaceful, as if he were a man free of worries, lost in deep, restful sleep.
But that calm was a lie.
The truth was far less comforting.
Amon had barely slept at all.
Throughout the long, suffocating night, his consciousness never truly relaxed. Even while his eyes were closed, his senses remained sharp.
