Despite the heavy weight on his heart, Mikhail stood up anyway.
The typhoon of grief in his soul was raging as strong as it had been when he first awoke from that pleasant memory. But he wasn't going to let that stop him. Not from trying to survive. And certainly not from trying to achieve his ambitions.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
In the deafening silence, the sound of the leather soles of his caligae hitting the ground was like an explosion. It made Mikhail feel a sense of dread and anxiety. Knowing that whatever was out there could probably see him, but that he couldn't see them.
And he knew that his steps, however faint he tried to make them, would inevitably draw attention. Maybe not now. Maybe not even in the next week. Maybe not even the week after that.
But eventually…
Eventually, Mikhail's luck would run out.
And that wasn't even the biggest issue.
