The night did not pass gently.
It did not slip away in silence or surrender to rest.
It dragged itself forward, as if burdened by its own weight.
Each moment stretched unnaturally long.
Each second pressed down like a stone.
Slow.
Painfully slow.
Cold.
The kind of cold that did not stay on the skin—
But seeped inward.
Into muscles.
Into bones.
Unforgiving.
It did not care who endured it.
It did not care who broke beneath it.
The wind howled without rest.
It did not come in waves—
It came without pause.
Sharp.
Relentless.
Cutting through the air like invisible blades.
The stones beneath Karna held no warmth.
They were as merciless as the wind.
Hard.
Unyielding.
Drained of life.
Yet—
Karna remained where he was.
Unmoving.
Not because it was easy.
Not because he felt strong.
But because he had chosen not to move.
His body trembled.
Not lightly.
But violently at times.
His muscles tightened and loosened without his control.
Not from fear.
