For a long time before reuniting with Ercilia, Drystan had used to flee into the escape of night.
He had dodged and ducked until his muscles flinched at peripheral movement. He had evaded both dreams and nightmares until he felt hollow – like an emptied conch shell without the weight of the world on his back but also without the memory of home. He had experienced fading in and out like the blink of time, leaving him zombified and just as unrested as he began.
The past thirteen years had been a dark era in Drystan's life. But now that Ercilia is found, her presence has become a spell against reminders of his powerlessness.
He can now lay calmly until slumber falls upon him. He can now close his eyes, even if only for a nanosecond, until dawn cracks over his bedroom window. He can now breathe until his lungs are satiated.
Tonight has started with another dream. With remorse and resignation as always.
