The sound of the water was continuous.
It did not strike the ears or overwhelm the mind—it merely reminded one of its existence. As if time was passing, the world was in motion, yet he remained in place.
Zaber sat by the river. He lay in this state until sunset. The light of Ruya and Siamond broke on the water's surface, fragmenting into tiny pieces. The light trembled in the water, moving as if it were a living creature. He did not look at the sky. The stars held no interest for him tonight.
Tonight, he did not flee.
Tonight, he did not fight.
Tonight, he stopped to measure himself.
He slowly opened his palms. His skin was covered in bruises, and from sitting in the water too long, the cold seemed to have seeped into his bones. There was still a tremor between his fingers. His muscles had relaxed, but the pain had not left. Though he had drunk the healing elixir, it could not mend a broken soul. The body would recover, but what was inside had not vanished.
