I woke to the sound of stone grinding against stone, and I was surprised that I was able to sleep at all, and that I had apparently done for several hours until daybreak.
I have not slept properly since before the loop. Arcanist bodies do not require it, and a mind like mine does not stop, and for a while the nearest thing I have had to rest was meditating inside a space of infinite darkness.
For a moment, I did not know where I was. The darkness of the spatial storm still clung to the edges of my consciousness, and I half-expected to see the infinite pillars stretching into nothing. But the warmth of the forge seeped into my bones, and the weight of the mountain pressed down around me, solid and real.
I opened my eyes. The hall was lit by the invisible fire of the forge, casting shadows that moved without source. Dorrik was at his table, his back to me, his hands moving over something I could not see.
