Time passed slowly.
Not because the world had stopped—the wind still blew, the clouds still slowly crossed the sky, the light shifted—but because, there in that crater, everything seemed suspended in a strange state between alertness and waiting.
Six hours.
Six whole hours since the impact.
And Ouroboros hadn't moved even once.
Her colossal body remained stretched out in the center of the crater, the black scales absorbing the light instead of reflecting it, as if they still carried remnants of that distorted energy that had exploded during the fall. Her breathing was slow, heavy, but steady—the only clear sign that she was still there… for real.
Strax sat near one of the crater's edges, back in his human form, his elbows resting on his knees while his eyes remained fixed on her. He didn't seem physically tired—not in the usual way—but there was something deeper there, a silent tension that wouldn't disappear.
