Hours passed. He could feel them dragging, stretching, bending. The weight of the night only grew heavier. Too heavy. Unnaturally heavy. As if the world itself was being forced to stay asleep.
By the time he realized the unease knotting in his stomach wasn't just paranoia but instinct screaming at him, it was already too late.
Across the empire, the citizens stirred in their homes, yawning, stretching, reaching automatically for morning tasks, yet something felt off.
Their bodies felt awake, their minds felt slightly sluggish. Their hearts… confused.
"Did I wake too early?" "Why is it still dark…?" "Is this a dream?"
Dozens, then hundreds, then thousands stepped out of their houses holding oil lamps, expecting dawn's edge to greet them.
Instead, what greeted them froze their voices in their throats.
The moon hung low and swollen, dyed in a sickly red so dark it looked almost bruised.
