The sun rose and set, rose and set, until the rhythm of time became background noise. Jason stopped counting. He stopped wondering what day it was or how long he had been in this world as none of that mattered anymore.
What mattered was that everything was ready for the crawl.
Jason had managed to get some armor. Not the good kind—not the polished steel that Kaelen wore or the enchanted leather that Mira favored. His was patchwork. Secondhand at best, a leather cuirass that had been repaired so many times it looked more like a quilt than armor. Metal bracers that pinched his wrists. Boots that were half a size too small.
But it was something.
He also had a sword. A short blade, single-edged, with a leather-wrapped hilt and a scabbard that had seen better days.
