The room was still shrouded in twilight when Kael opened his eyes, as if the very atmosphere respected the weight of the rest he had needed. It wasn't an immediate or gentle awakening; it was slow, drawn-out, like someone being pulled back to the surface after sinking too deep. For a few seconds, he just lay there, staring at the ceiling without really seeing it, feeling his own body before even trying to move. There was pain—not sharp, but widespread, persistent, as if each muscle carried the remnants of what it had done.
The dreams hadn't helped.
Fragments were still there, clinging to his mind in a disjointed way. Voices that didn't finish sentences. Empty stares. Too much blood. Motionless children. He closed his eyes again for a brief moment, not to fall asleep again, but to push it away far enough to be able to get up. It didn't work completely, but it was enough.
