As Northern stretched his hands and legs with a light groan, he felt his muscles grow taut with relaxation. He slowly opened his eyes to the golden spill of light cascading across the entire scenery.
He sat up and crossed his legs into a lotus position, relaxing forward so he didn't have to sit with so much effort, and just continued to stare at the day star sinking into the horizon beyond the sea.
The cold wind caused his white hair to dance across his face. It framed his features in a messy halo, the length already draping over his eyes but still parted in the middle, falling over each angle of his face.
His eyes were sharper now—deep, and looking nothing like those of a seventeen-year-old. Nor did they look like those of a twenty-nine-year-old.
Northern's face was blank, staring at the distant horizon with no readable emotion in his eyes. He replayed his conversation with Kryos, the corruption of Void, the gods, the atrocity the First Origins had committed.
