Morning at Castle Zero arrived without a sun. The Forest of Lamentation never knew the warmth of a true dawn. There was only the thinning of the fog—shifting from a dense charcoal to a pale, ghostly gray—before thickening once more as midday approached. But inside the castle, time was measured by other means: by the rhythmic echo of footsteps, the clink of tools, and the faint sound of laughter drifting from the rear courtyard.
Dayat woke earlier than usual. It wasn't because he couldn't sleep; on the contrary, he had slept soundly for the first time since Dola's collapse. Perhaps it was because he had finally washed away the grime of battle. Perhaps it was because Dola was awake. Or perhaps it was simply because his team finally had a direction. Whatever the reason, he felt lighter this morning.
