6
Ruarc
He did not sleep.
This was not uncommon — he had never required the same hours of sleep that mortals did, and in the years since the last death his sleep had developed a fractured quality, as if part of him had decided that full unconsciousness carried too much risk of missing something important. But last night had been different from the ordinary insomnia of a man with too many responsibilities and too few solutions. Last night he had lain awake with the precise, fully illuminated awareness of a man who has just heard himself speak the most honest five words of the past fifty years, and cannot determine whether honesty had been the right move or simply the only one available to him in the moment.
"Not everything. Not enough."
He had said it because it was true and because sh
