Liam jolted awake with a sharp inhale, and before his mind had fully caught up with his body, a dagger had already formed in his hand.
The black blade appeared from shadow as naturally as breathing, his fingers closing around the handle while he pushed himself up in one swift motion. Pain immediately flared through his ribs and side, but instinct overrode discomfort. Within the next breath, he was on his feet, knees slightly bent, shoulders angled, and dagger held low in a defensive grip as his crimson eyes swept across the darkness around him.
For a moment, Liam expected trees.
He expected broken earth, ash, the smell of burnt forest, and the lingering pressure of the eastern woods. He expected to see the ruined aftermath of his fight against the Berserker or the shadowed canopy above him where that final blurry silhouette had stood over his body before everything had gone black.
Instead, he saw stone.
