The next morning Silax got up from bed, walked up to the windows and pulled the curtains open. Brilliant red rays poured into the room. Today was a day unbound.
A year on Artiyaem unfolded in a rhythmic dance that followed a unique lunar calendar. Here, time flowed in cycles of three hundred and nine days, carved into eleven segments of unwavering twenty-eight days each.
All except Orin, the sixth month. Nestled between the industrious month of Azel and the contemplative month of Thel, lay Orin, a month unlike any other. It held a secret, an extra beat in the year's heart. A twenty-ninth day that wasn't counted.
This wasn't just another sunrise and set. It was a day stolen from the year, a sliver of time dedicated solely to the celestial dance above. The day wasn't given a name.
This occurred between the fourteenth and fifteenth day of the month. It was a day set apart, a sacred caesura in the year's melody. It wasn't counted, not officially.
