It started with a sound- the turning of a page, quiet and steady.
Aiden's fingers twitched against the soft, cool blanket pulled up to his chest. His consciousness returned slowly, sluggishly, like it was wading through thick fog. Every part of him felt heavy, stitched with pain and exhaustion. His mouth was dry, his ribs ached with every breath, and his body refused to move more than an inch. But he was alive.
Alive.
The ceiling above him was smooth stone, etched faintly with protective runes that pulsed with a gentle glow.
He tilted his head slightly. His vision was still blurry, but he could make out two familiar shapes beside him.
