Silence had finally settled.
I lay there, stretched out on the warm vine, my back pressed against its living surface, eyes lost in a sky that had turned clear again. The shadow was gone. The storm, the celestial maw, the rumble — all of it had fallen quiet. Only that strange blue remained, almost pure, still vibrating with a light too clean to be natural.
My head buzzed. Every heartbeat echoed in my skull like a hammer. I had the taste of dried blood on my tongue, my muscles numb, my throat burning. Fatigue had crossed the threshold of pain — it had become a presence, a silent companion lying beside me.
I slowly raised one arm, palm open to the sky, just to check if I could still move. Yes. Barely. But it was enough.
I breathed — long, deep. The air tasted of ozone and burned flowers, a bittersweet scent that clung to the skin.
