The Shape of a Morning

Chapter two: The Shape of a Morning

Caelum woke to the gentle hum of the city outside his window.

But for a while, he simply lay there, staring at the ceiling. The early light softened the sharp edges of his room, casting quiet shadows across the floorboards. His body felt heavy—not because it meant something was wrong, just because getting up would take effort.

He exhaled through his nose. "One thing at a time."

After slowly cracking his arms, he slowly stretch of his legs. He flexed his fingers slightly against the blanket then threw it aside.

Some mornings were worse than others. Some mornings, his limbs felt sluggish, like he was still trying to remember how to get his body to work.

"I wish i could sleep all day." He yawned at the thought of waking up.

Still, he didn't move right away. His eyes drifted toward the desk across the room, where the quill sat untouched. It was obviously still there.

He let out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face before finally swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "Alright," he muttered to himself, voice rough with sleep. "Up we go."

The floor was cold beneath his feet, but he ignored it as he made his way to the bathroom.

---

The mirror reflected him back in silence as he studied his own face, tilting his head slightly.

His Dark hair was messy from sleep, the tired eyes a little sunken, but not unbearably so. His skin was pale, though that had always been the case, he had never been someone who tanned easily. Still, he could see the signs.

There was a faint hollowness beneath his cheekbones. The way his collarbones stood out a little more than they normally did, There was a quiet exhaustion etched into the corners of his eyes, no matter how much he rested.

"I don't look that bad," He frowned, then sighed. " infact I'm quite handsome if i say so myself."

He turned on the faucet, waiting for the water to warm. The sound filled the small space, grounding him. He splashed his face, rubbing his hands over his skin, washing away the remnants of whatever thoughts had clung to him overnight.

The shower helped him a lot, the heat loosened the tension in his body, easing the stiffness that had settled in his muscles. He stood under the stream with closed eyes longer, thinking about the the quill.

'The leaf, the feather, the key. I made all those things through a simple quill?' His fingers twitched slightly against his sides.

'If i could do more than that…'

His eyes opened, steam curling against the edges of the mirror. He exhaled, watching his breath fog in the air before stepping out.

---

By the time he was in the kitchen, he felt more awake.

The fridge was half-empty as usual, he wasn't much of a cook, and eating had always felt like a chore more than anything else. But skipping meals never ended well, so he grabbed the easiest thing he could—some bread, a bit of jam, a glass of water.

He sat by the window, watching the city move outside.

The world continued on, unaware of what sat on his desk or what it could do.

"huff~"

Caelum let out a quiet huff, dragging a hand through his hair. "This is insane," he said in a low voice. "Completely insane."

As he finished his meal, pushed his chair back, and stood. His eyes flicked toward his bedroom.

'Now then, time to test it again.'

---

The quill started feeling familiar now, it balanced perfectly between his fingers.

Caelum sat at his desk, gaze flicking to the objects he had already created. The key, the feather and the fragile leaf. All of them resting there.

He snapped open his sketchbook,"Alright. Let's see what else you can do."

This time, he chose to draw something different. pressing the quill to the paper, caelum waited for the ink to flow.

A small and simple wooden cup. slightly worn, as if it had been used before. He focused on the tiny details—the faint grain of the wood, the little imperfections in the design that made it feel real.

When he was finished, he leaned back and waited.

In a few seconds the ink shimmered.

Then, as if peeling itself from the fabric of reality, the cup lifted from the page.

As soon as it landed softly on the desk, caelum reached out, hesitating for only a second before picking it up.

It was solid and Smooth against his palm.

His breath left him in a quiet, disbelieving laugh. "Hah. it worked," he muttered. "Why wouldn't it?"

He turned the cup over in his hands, inspecting it. It was exactly as he had drawn it.

Jusy then, a thought struck him. He stood, crossing the room to the sink.

Turned on the faucet and Filled the cup.

He half-expected the water to fall right through it, for reality to reject a fake existence.

But it didn't do so, the cup held the water perfectly. His grip tightened slightly on the cup before bringing it to his lips.

The water was cool against his tongue. Caelum exhaled slowly, setting the cup down on the counter. His pulse thrummed in his ears.

"Hmmmm....." With a soft humming, His thoughts took a flight.

---

Deciding to take his casual daily walk, caelum strolled out of his apartment.

The streets were alive with their usual rhythm. The smell of coffee drifted from a nearby café, mixing with the sharper scents of the city—concrete, metal, even the faint trace of last night's rain.

Caelum walked without a destination, his hands in his pockets, but his mind was elsewhere.

The quill had already broken the rules of reality he knew. So what were the limits?

He muttered under his breath as he walked, thinking aloud. "I can make simple things with it But, what about something far bigger?"

What if he didn't stop with just simple things? His fingers curled slightly at his sides.

"Something like a world."

The word slipped out before he could fully processed what he was saying, As if it were natural.

His steps slowed, He definitely couldn't compare creating a key or a leaf to something like a world.

But the thought settled deep in his chest, sending a shiver down his spine.

If the quill could make bigger things, caelum wanted to make Something untouched by time, by his sickness, by anything outside of his control.

Maybed that's why he subconsciously thought about a world, His breath became unsteady as he kept thinking, heart beating a little faster.

A world where nothing faded, or a world where he wouldn't have to worry about how much time he had left.

His lips twitched because of how absurd his thoughts were, He had always thought of his life as something fragile, something slipping through his fingers no matter how tightly he tried to hold on.

But what if he didn't have to hold on to it any longer? What if he could create something that lasted longer than his life?

He wasn't sure if it was fear or excitement or something else entirely.

He only knew one thing. Today, he would draw again.

--------------

------

The apartment door clicked shut behind Caelum with a quite tap.

He lingered there for a moment with his back against the wood, his fingers curled tighter around the paper bag in his arms. Outside, the city buzzed with the restless energy of late afternoon—cars groaned through the streets, voices tangled in conversation, and somewhere in the distance, a dog barked at something undoubtedly unimportant.

But inside his apartment, it was silent and Safe.

"Hah~."

He exhaled slowly and set the bag down on the small table near the window. Then he went for the door lock and instinctively twisted it into place with a soft click.

He moved to the window again and grabbed the curtains, dragging them shut in one slow pull, cutting off the outside world.

It was not like anyone was watching him, not that he had anyone to watch on him.

Caelum let out a quiet huff, rubbing the back of his neck as he went straight to his bedroom and dropped into the chair. His gaze flickered toward the quill resting on the desk, waiting for him.

But first, he needed a minute.

He leaned back, letting his head tip slightly against the chair's edge. His fingers drummed absently against the wood. He wasn't even sure why he was doing this—locking the doors, closing the windows, shutting everything out like he was hiding something.

Or maybe like he was the thing that needed hiding.

He let out a breath through his nose.

Funny enough to him. He had spent his most of life invisible, but now, with the quill in his possession, he was acting as if the universe might finally turn its eyes toward him.

'Relax dumbass,' he told himself.

'No one cares, No one ever had anyway.'

His fingers stilled against the table. His lips twisted looking humorless.

" Alright, that was bit dramatic Even for me."

He knew self-pity wasn't a good look, but some thoughts weren't so easily ignored.

His family had always been good at not looking too closely, at not seeing him.

It wasn't malicious, just effortless.

He had an older sister and a older brother, too. Both brilliant and successful, they were people who had their lives wrapped in neat little bows. His parents had poured everything into them, and he had—what? Been there, Existing in the background?

He snorted. remembering the conversation with his family, the way the words had come out flat and unbothered.

"The doctor said it's serious. A year or two, at best."

There were a few sympathetic nods, with murmur of: "That's unfortunate."

And then, "So what are you going to do now?"

There was no grief or worry for him, just a question.

Like he'd told them he had lost a job or a set of keys.

Caelum let out a low sigh, dragging a hand down his face. It had been that moment, that exact moment, when he had made his decision.

He wouldn't be working for a future he wouldn't have. No more trying to fit into a space that had never been meant for him.

His savings weren't much, but they weren't nothing. It was Enough to live a middle class life however he damn well pleased, for as long as he had left.

And right now, what pleased him most was the impossible artifact sitting on his desk.

Caelum pushed himself forward, resting his elbows on the wood as he reached for the quill.

Time to work.

---

He needed something simple and precise.

His gaze flicked over the clutter of his desk, scanning for an object to replicate. His fingers landed on a crumpled dollar bill.

He held it up to the light, studying it.

The texture or the faded ink. The tiny imperfections where the paper had worn thin from use.

'Can i recreate this?' His brow furrowed as he ran his thumb over the surface, committing every detail to memory.

He had never been much of an artist, his sketches were functional at best and uneven at worst. But he had a feeling he could draw way better than ever now.

He pressed the tip of the quill to the paper and began.

---

The lines flowed smoother than they normally should have.

His hand moved with an ease he didn't have. Every curve, every mark, every intricate detail took shape beneath the quill's tip as if it wanted to be created.

Minutes passed by, Maybe even an hour.

When he finally sat back, there was a perfect replica of a dollar bill.

His breath caught in his throat as the ink shimmered, and then It peeled from the page.

Caelum barely had time to react before the bill landed on the desk, as light as a whisper.

He reached out instantly, his thumb brushing the surface of the bill.

'It feels so real....'

Paper-thin, slightly rough, the same strange softness that came from too many hands exchanging it.

He turned it over to check if the back was identical. His stomach tightened, by the fact that he could make money.

The sheer implications sent a sharp thrill through his ribs. "I could be rich, i could..."

'No, this is dangerous. If i started thinking like that, it would spiral out fast.' caelum calmed his steaming thoughts.

Still, If money was possible, then other essentials were too. His fingers curled around the quill once more wanting to test it even further.

Loosing himself to the quill's power, he kept drawing. A few packets of Bread, sets of clothes, A few other necessities.

Each drawing came easier than the last, almost too easy. Lost in the act of drawing out things, he didn't even notice his body shaking abnormally.

Soon the edges of his vision blurred. His breath stuck on his throat as something inside him was pulled out.

And then—"bumm"

His upper body landed on the table-top like a nuke, his conciseness drifting into darkness.

---

When Caelum woke, the light outside had changed. It was Evening.

His limbs were heavy. His head pounded, a dull ache spreading behind his eyes.

Looking around with his half open eyes, he couldn't help but feel confused.

"Wha-what... had just happened?"

He sat up slowly, wincing as his body protested. His gaze flickered toward the desk.

The quill rested there undisturbed, even the objects he had drawn remained solid.

But his stomach twisted. He swallowed, pressing a hand to his temple as he thought back.

'Was it exhaustion?' thinking about the sudden blackout, he started at the quill again.

The quill had taken something from him.

'It's not energy, i don't feel like a person being drained from a long day work. It's something else..'

Touching the quill with his fingers, he tried to make a guess, 'It was a sudden blackout so..Is it my willpower? The Mental energy that was the human consciousness?'

Realising he was mentally drained by using the quill, His breath left him in a quiet, bitter laugh. "Yea, ofcourse it wouldn't be that easy."

He rubbed his temples, shaking his head as he slowly stood. His muscles still felt leaden, but he could move.

All he could think of right now was a shower.

"And ofcourse." Rubbing his stomach, " a proper dinner."

After a long time he felt urge to eat.

---

By the time he sat back at the table with a plate of food in front of him, his mind felt relaxed again.

The quill had power, and with power always came a price. And now, he knew what it was.

His fingers drummed idly against the wood as he stared at the quill's feathered edge.

Exhaustion or not, he wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot, He'd push further and See what else it could do.

His lips curled slightly.

"After some goodnight rest," he murmured to himself. "Let's see what you're really capable of tomorrow."