Kyrian opened his eyes. The faint light coming through the window was minimal. It was impossible to tell whether it was morning or afternoon. How many hours had passed?
His mind, now clear, tried to calculate. The deep exhaustion had vanished. He felt his body light, he had slept more than enough.
He got up from the wooden bed, put on his common, simple, dark clothes, and left the tiny room.
As he entered the main area of the dormitory, he stopped.
Something was different.
On the stone table, where before there had only been the book of the Blood Court, now lay a carefully folded piece of fabric.
Kyrian approached. It was a garment. He unfolded it with two fingers.
It was a tunic. A deep crimson red, almost black in the shadows, cut from a heavy and smooth fabric with no shine.
The details were black, the collar edges, the sleeves, the belt that came with it.
On the shoulders, embroidered with a thread that seemed to be made of dark metal, was the symbol of the Blood Court.
