The gentle dawn smiled at his mournful eyes. The sun, peeking over the horizon, was ablaze with blood, but his shaking heart could see the calm yellow resting in its core.
He bit his pale lip, a weak attempt to shush the pain in his heart. Watching the sun rise reminded him of home, of his clothes, smelling of the ocean...of what he had lost.
The King's cliché words echoed through his glittering hair. It made him remember that the dawn found his light and guarded it deep down inside. And until the evening twilight would it shine down.














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