Cough! Cough!
Again and again, his body convulsed, violent tremors shaking through him and forcing his chest to rise and fall in quick, uneven bursts. His lungs burned with every breath, as though the very act of breathing was a punishment. It was hard—terribly hard—to draw in air, and this shocking realization made Kairos jerk, panic flooding his system like cold water down his spine.
He didn't know where he was—not entirely—but he could feel it.
The surface beneath him was solid and unwelcoming, hard as stone, and so chillingly cold it almost soothed the sharpness of his pain. It grounded him in the moment, a cruel sort of anchor to his reality.
His ears strained for sound, but nothing came—only wind. A dry, eternal wind that whispered through the pit like a ghost, no birds, no movement. Just wind. Nothing more, nothing less.
For a split second, a naive thought flitted through his foggy mind—maybe I'm back on Earth. Maybe this has all been some twisted, overdrawn nightmare.
