The air outside the library was cold and usually had the decency to wake a person up. Usually. For Cherion, however, the frost was just another layer of haze. As they navigated the halllway, torch-lit corridors of the Valtrane estate, the world felt like it was being viewed through a sheet of thick, distorted glass. Blue-black shadows stretched across the stone floors, heralding a dawn that was still more of a threat than a promise.
Zarius strode beside him, his movements fluid and unnervingly silent for a man of his stature. He looked sideways, caught the way Cherion's eyelashes were fluttering against his cheeks. The boy was practically a sleepwalker at this point.
