The next morning came with no ceremony. No bright light filtering dramatically through the windows. Just a muted gray hanging over the apartment like the sun hadn't committed to the day yet.
Merlin rolled out of bed and immediately regretted it. Every joint felt like it had been filed down with a brick.
'Why does everything in this world hurt like it means it?'
He shuffled to the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, and stared at his reflection. His hair was a mess, stuck out in the back like it'd made its own architectural decision overnight.
"Cool," he muttered, dragging fingers through it.
The system didn't ping. The white-haired man didn't appear in the mirror. No prophetic warnings. Just him and a toothbrush and the slow tick of the wall clock that might've been broken.
He found Nathan already dressed in the kitchen, nursing a cup of something dark and vile.
