Elara's pov
Days, weeks, perhaps even months had bled into one another on this peak but in truth, it felt like years.
Here, time was a stagnant thing; there was no sunrise to signal a beginning, no moon to mark an end. Without the steady rhythm of the sky, the concept of a day became meaningless.
But most of all I was cold.
So so cold.
I woke up shivering so violent it felt like I had been laid out on a slab of ice.
Malakor, ever indifferent, hadn't bothered with a blanket. The last time I'd dared to mention the freezing temperatures, he merely remarked that I was welcome to die if I found the climate too discordant for my fragile human frame.
Looking down, I saw my skin had faded to a translucent grey, nearly indistinguishable from the stone to which I was chained.
