The morning light was thin and shimmering, filtering through the gaps in the linen curtains.
It was warm, but that warmth did nothing to chase away the chill that had settled into Julian's bones.
Julian stood by the washbasin, his movements mechanical. He splashed cold water onto his face, gripping the porcelain rim until his knuckles turned white. He looked into the mirror and saw a stranger—pale, with eyes that seemed to have seen too much of the dark. The 'Waking Madness' hadn't just shaken his mind; it had drained the very color from his skin.
Then, he took a towel and wiped his face before picking up his crisp and clean shirt.
He stood in front of the vanity mirror, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. Every movement felt heavy, as if his limbs were made of lead. He stared at the same stranger he saw in the mirror just now, his gaze particularly fixed on the dark shadows under his eyes. The cold water didn't help wash it away, and he sighed.
