Valeria opened her eyes to the familiar wooden ceiling of her private quarters. The bruised purple sky and the blinding white lightning of the divine bombardment were completely gone. The heavy oak door of her bedroom was shut tight against the chaos of the outside world. The room was illuminated only by the soft orange glow of the dying embers in the large stone fireplace.
The silence was heavy but profoundly peaceful. The deafening explosions of the executioner's spear felt like a distant nightmare.
She tried to sit up. A dull and heavy ache throbbed at the base of her skull. It was not the physical exhaustion of a long march or a sword fight. It was the absolute spiritual drain of anchoring a cosmic shield against a living god. Her muscles felt like they were filled with cold lead.
A heavy and familiar hand gently pushed her shoulder back down against the feather pillows.
"Do not move," Kael whispered.
