A crumbling mesa, a roaring flood, tight, dark tunnels and the whisper of death hot behind his ears, a man of great mettle crushed, smeared, broken under the rubble while his children die behind him. Sisters, choking on black smoke until it filled their lungs. It should've filled his own too. Pale saviour, pharoah, all of them, erased into dust. To dream was unbearable and so, to sleep was too.

Nokht awoke with a sharp inhale, eyes blinking as they adjusted to the overwhelming dark, his breath quick, then slowing as it formed a mist in the cold night air. He rose, deciding that a drink was best to clear his addled mind. Through redstone hallways and passages he walked, the hop of his leg filling the silent air with a rhythmic click as his claws dragged against the stone, until he came upon a small pool and leaned down to drink from it.

The stars reflected on the still, black water, and for a moment, he found some peace.

Even here, in the deepest canyon, he could still see the stars. No prison walls to block the light, nor crumbling caverns to haunt his dreams, just blissful solace and the watchful eyes of night upon him.