He woke from apprehensive dreams, into vertigo and sweat. Iylum had been seeking him, while he hid together with Kyrig. But the taint left smoldering footprints behind, and no refuge could they keep.
He felt there suddenly unanchored, and paralyzed, like a stone in a flood. This was not his world; he had been deracinated from his own and was numb to this one. He had sat down some hours before to sleep under the lee of an oak. He stood now and beheld an impossible simulacrum of then, everything fixed in an immutable twilight, withholding the entelechy of night.
Comprehending the immobile sun, he experienced a profound transformation of perception. First as a disequilibrium, a catatonic aporia, then with plenary awe. Time had become wholly noumenon, uncoupled from its ontic covenant.
With only a coat and staff, he walked out into a world hushed by celestial coma.
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