Weeks passed.
Or perhaps they were days. Or months.
Time, here, no longer obeyed the usual markers, the rigid measures of clocks or the mechanical rhythms that the outside world imposes without ever asking permission.
It seemed to have dissolved, slowly, patiently, into the warm and vibrant air of Terra Neutralis, as if this land, by nature or by will, had chosen to refuse the authority of measured time.
Here, there was only the cadence of the wind, the muffled rhythm of birdsong, the rustling of leaves, the turning of the light that never struck, the steps that hurried nothing, and the heartbeats that, little by little, had learned to slow.
The world flowed differently.
And we with it.
We still walked.
Not to reach a goal, not to flee, not to gain ground — but simply because movement, here, was no longer a constraint.
