His eyes fluttered a little—open, shut… open again. A sluggish rhythm, like a dying engine sputtering back to life. Each blink felt heavier than the last, yet somehow, bit by bit, his breath began to steady. It was no longer the ragged gasp of a body on the verge of collapse. Instead, it became calmer, deeper… stable.
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.
