[ the strength of kaveh's hand shifts. the padisarahs bloom. the sun emerges from its clouds. the dream, alhaitham thinks, is coming to an end. like the coming of a storm, the world shifts in vibrant bloom. one last entreaty to the radiance of a sun, a final celebration of life before the encroaching darkness. above, the clouds begin to sway. above, the eagle angles for a dive.

alhaitham, who only ever has had attention for but one, solitary individual, holds kaveh's hand. gently, he guides kaveh to sit. he is weak. this is paradise, and he is weak. ]

Do men not grow even when the most nominal amount of time has passed? Are you the same Kaveh as you were at the beginning of this dream? I am the Alhaitham you will meet in seven days; if you were to ask what differs between my present self, and my past self, I would assert that it is the time that has passed, and it is the distance I have walked.

Sit. Rest.