The second morning dawned soft and pale, the kind of dawn that makes the earth seem unsure of itself — neither gold nor gray, neither asleep nor awake. Mist clung low over the farmland, and Alina stood at its edge, the papyrus fields stretching before her like ripples of green silk.
"So we just… wait two days?" she murmured. Her pink eyes wandered, glassy and uncertain. For once, the world seemed still, and she didn't know how to fill that silence.
Luciel's voice cut across the morning calm. "Waiting does no good. Help with the work."
He stood a few paces away, his sleeves rolled, a bundle of reeds in one hand. His tone was even, commanding without force — the kind of authority that left no room for questions. "Idle hands invite darker thoughts," he said. "Move, and your mind won't trouble you."
Alina sighed and trudged forward. "What do you want me to do?"
