1335 After the Storm

The Great River was like it had always been — vast, dreamlike, and ceaseless. Its current gently carried the ketch forward, as if the harrowing storm had never happened. The seven suns slowly traveled across the azure sky, which was painted lilac in the east and vibrant crimson in the west. 

For a while, Nephis and Sunny remained idle. Their bodies were still reeling from the terrible battle against the raging elements, and so were their minds. The invasive violence of broken time had left them drained and fragile. 

Their hearts felt hollow, too. 

Sunny silently lay on the wooden deck, staring at the sky. His head was empty, full of nothing but the sensation of a dull ache that radiated from all across his battered body.

It was good to hurt. Pain reminded him that he was alive. 

There was the smell of wet wood, the peaceful sound of waves splashing against the sides of the ketch, and the warm sunlight. Most noteworthy of all, there was time.