Lucas didn't sleep much.
It wasn't restlessness in the usual sense. His body was still, his breathing even, but his mind wouldn't settle into anything deep enough to count as sleep. Every time he drifted, there was that same feeling waiting for him, the faint disconnect between thought and action, like even in his own head something wasn't entirely his. It wasn't loud. It didn't force anything. It just lingered, quiet and patient, like it didn't need to rush.
By the time morning came, he gave up on trying.
The courtyard was mostly empty when he stepped out. The air carried that early stillness, not cold, not warm, just enough to make everything feel slightly sharper. He leaned against the railing without thinking, eyes unfocused for a moment as he watched nothing in particular.
Footsteps approached behind him.
Tomas.
"You look like you didn't sleep," he said, stopping a few feet away.
Lucas didn't bother turning. "I didn't."
