2024-07-10 - The Night Wanes - 5.3

When time was once measured in discoveries and knowledge, now it was measured in smouldering breaths and gasps for air. First was during the Night - though now Myrcelleth understood that it was more to the Night than the suffocation, that night and Night were not the same. That night was simply the colder, darker version of being. It was a strange realisation, to be sure, that a word that he had heard before was so misunderstood, so full of new meaning. It wasn’t long before one sank back under - it was draining enough to keep their head up, much more so when they were trying to discover while doing so.

A new breath, a new experience. A soothing warmth in the vast not-so-empty. It was not nearly the same as the kind of warmth that Myrcelleth had associated with home, not as overwhelming and all-encompassing. It was more like a drizzle on the edge of the not-so-empty, brushing against it like the touch of a long-lost friend, too unsure to properly establish a connection again but eager if nothing else.

Another scorching breath, lungs were burning by now and Myrcelleth could barely hear outside of the static in his own head. He was good at this, good at frustrating himself and everyone around him. Where were his green siblings when he wanted them so dearly?