THE HAILING LIGHT

CHAPTER ONE: SHADOWS OF ROUTINE

**Chapter One: Shadows of Routine**

Hale Everhart awoke with a jolt. His eyes fluttered open to the dim light filtering through the cracked blinds, casting jagged lines across the ceiling. It was morning, though the sky outside was far from bright. It never was, not in Epsilon City.

Grey light.
Endless grey light.

His small apartment felt cold, colder than usual, even though the clock on the wall read 7:32 AM. The quiet hum of the city beyond his walls, muffled by the thick, insulated glass, barely registered. It was always quiet here. Quiet, yet never peaceful.

Hale lay still, staring at the ceiling. The rhythmic ticking of the clock, the soft drone of distant engines, the faintest echo of life in the world outside-it was all a part of his morning. His body told him to move, to get up, but his mind was still trapped in that liminal space between sleep and reality. The warmth of his bed, the slight comfort of his pillow-it was easier to stay there, to pretend for just a moment longer that the day didn't need to start.

But the day always started.

He sat up slowly, the sheets crumpling around him in a mess of fabric. His hand reached automatically for the watch on the nightstand. It was simple, worn, the leather strap faded from years of use. His father's. The hands of the watch ticked quietly, always a second too slow, always a reminder of time slipping away.

Hale stood. The hardwood floor beneath his feet was cold, and he felt the chill crawl up his spine. He padded across the room, passing the narrow dresser against the wall, the empty picture frames stacked beside it. He hadn't gotten around to filling them. Probably never would.

The bathroom was small, cramped even, with a single lightbulb casting a sickly yellow glow over the space. The mirror above the sink was fogged, not from humidity but from time. Scratches, faint cracks. It distorted his reflection slightly, a subtle blur to the man staring back at him.

He looked tired. He always looked tired. Dark brown hair, unkempt, fell loosely over his forehead. His olive-toned skin was pale in the light, his eyes-those bright blue eyes-were dull, as though the color had been washed out by the world around him. He splashed cold water on his face, letting the shock of it ground him in the present.

It didn't help much.

The apartment around him felt more like a cage than a home. Sparse, minimal. A bed. A dresser. A table with one chair in the corner. The kitchen, if it could be called that, was little more than a few cupboards, a sink, and a tiny stove. It wasn't much, but it was all he needed.

That's what he told himself, anyway.

Hale dressed in silence, his movements slow, methodical. Button-up shirt, tie, jacket. The fabric clung to his skin, stiff and uncomfortable, but it was familiar. Routine. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame the wild strands, but gave up after a few seconds. It didn't matter. Nothing really mattered, not in the grand scheme of things. Not in this city.

By 8:00 AM, he was out the door.

---

The streets of Epsilon City stretched out before him, a concrete jungle of towering skyscrapers, cold and impersonal. The buildings loomed above, casting long shadows that swallowed the narrow alleys below. Everything was grey. Grey steel, grey stone, grey sky. Even the people, bustling about their daily lives, seemed to blend into the background, faceless figures in a sea of monotony.

Hale walked with purpose, though his destination was no more meaningful than the steps that took him there. His job as a data analyst at *Quantum Core Solutions* was steady, reliable. It paid the bills. Kept him busy. Kept him numb.