Night had fallen over the temple.
Erian lay on his bed, still as stone. Tears still streamed down his face, hot and heavy. He had been crying for so long that the skin of his cheeks burned, his eyes ached, and his eyelids felt weighed down, as though stones were pressed behind them.
His head throbbed with a constant pain that spread through his temples and down his neck. Every breath caught in his throat, as if a hard, rough knot blocked the air, making it painful to breathe.
Erian had tried to get up when he heard, hours before, Seirion leaving food by his door. But he hadn't dared. Not even later, when the smell of dinner reached him. He hadn't even tried to get up for water.
The mere scent of food made his stomach twist. His throat felt closed, as though swallowing even a single bite would be impossible. He had no hunger, no strength, no will.
His mind remained trapped, endlessly repeating Seirion's words, again and again, until remembering them hurt.
