Ever since he had reached the jagged cliffs, rock-solid and sun-scorched, he had collapsed beneath the merciful shade of an overhanging ledge, where the desert sun could no longer lash at him. That tiny sliver of shadow had become his sanctuary. His temporary salvation.
Kairos' eyes finally sprang fully open, and in that very instant, it felt like a blind man reclaiming his sight after years of darkness. Yet, even with this regained vision, the world remained a blurry smear—undefined, disorienting. He blinked several times, trying to focus, but the images still danced hazily before him, refusing to cooperate.
Pain pulsed dully through his joints. His limbs throbbed, his bones ached, and every fiber of his body screamed fatigue. It was as though he had just been liberated from endless, merciless toil—like a slave finally freed from the grip of chains and cruelty.
