It was a peaceful rest, the kind that eluded most of those who spent countless days and nights fighting an endless war against the horrible swarm of Nightmare creatures who plagued their existence.
It was rare to find someone who slept so soundly these days, and yet Jasper had done just that.
He was likely a sole exception to this unspoken truth of the new life he had found himself in. So many people had feared falling asleep after their first nightmares that they did horrific things to others and themselves just to keep themselves awake at night.
Good people had done terrible things to escape the clutches of the spell. Not all awakened died by the hands of nightmare creatures these days. Typically, it was their own that had done the job.
He had always been a deep sleeper, but this was taking it a step too far, Damian thought as he looked over his young companion.
Sitting by his side as Jasper lay unconscious on a makeshift bed in an old abandoned village.
This village was once home to those who lived simple lives on the edges of where Bastion once ruled. They likely paid tribute to the Avatar of War in many ways; their culture was lost to time.
Now, after thousands of years, the village was alive once more, this time filled with the awakened from the realm of War, even if they themselves did not know it.
Damian didn't know how long the two of them had been sprawled out in the mud before Prophets' men found them. For all he knew, they could have been there for days, yet he had a suspicion that was not the case.
Prophet could see the future after all, so he likely knew of their arrival before they were ever assigned the mission to begin with.
Hell, he could have seen this when he first used Damian's blood all those months ago.
Looking down at himself and Jasper, he saw the countless bandages they had been covered in. The awakened under Prophet had taken off their memories to do what they could to save their lives.
Damian was grateful for the help, but in these days, good needs rarely came without a cost.
He had only been up a short while when the usual awakened who had been checking in on them happened to be in the room and quickly left to tell the good news of his recovery.
Damian didn't recognise all the faces he saw from the nearby window, but more and more of them brought back familiar memories of their first camp.
It was strange, back then, these young men and women all looked frightened and ready to die. Now they looked like hardened soldiers, ones who had faced death more than any person should ever have to.
He didn't know which one was better for them in the end. If it were up to him, none of them would have had to brave the nightmares of this new age.
He looked over Jasper again. The young man was awfully skinny, with skin almost translucent, and his muscles were clearly visible beneath.
They painted a horrible picture. Torn to shreds, his bones ground to dust, as bruises scattered his body like landmines. It was a miracle he was even alive in this state.
Damian had done all he could to protect him from the external threats of the whispering forest, as the awakened nurse had called it, but he couldn't do anything about the damage he had caused himself.
Damian knew his body would not recover if he stayed in bed. If the man didn't wake up soon, he would likely die.
Of course, Damian had options to mitigate that. The [Broken Chain] could be a great help in this, but the effects from the last time they connected still left marks on both of them.
Further exposure to that would only do more harm than good.
As he sat quietly watching the young man's unsteady breathing, two figures entered the room.
One was the same awakened nurse from earlier who quickly came to check over Jasper. The other was an Awakened Damian vaguely recognised.
He had been part of the original group before the division, but he had never really distinguished himself beyond being one of the first to seize the boats.
Damian rose from his seat and winced in pain as he faced the younger man.
His unruly raven black hair jostled slightly as he extended an arm out towards Damian.
The man's features were far sharper than they had been before his ascension. He was slightly taller than Damian, causing the older man to look up slightly to meet the young man's eyes, which shone with a fierceness like that of a bird of prey in the dark void of his perfectly black eyes.
Grasping the younger man's hand in a firm handshake, Damian spoke first,
"Awakened Cor, it's good to see that you made it through."
The younger man smiled back as his rough voice came through,
"Likewise, Awakened Damian. I've heard of your achievements through some of my men in the Waking World. You've become quite the famous figure, even compared to those who managed to receive a True Name "
Damian was taken aback by this statement. Sure, he had done some incredible things, but to be called famous? That was a new one.
Before he had time to ask the first question on his mind, Awakened Cor continued as he released his grip and turned towards the exit,
"We have much to discuss between us. Come. I'll show you around."
Damian followed the younger man outside as Awakened Cor clasped his hands behind his back as they walked.
The man's every step felt full of purpose.
He reminded Damian of the commanders of his army days, and his heart settle with a pleased emotion.
The young man was a born leader, much like Warden. Everywhere they walked, the young men and women would stop to give him a pleasant greeting, and he would return one right back.
It was a strange experience, seeing a different kind of community than the one developing in Bastion. Very soon, he reckoned that every Citadel would be a hub of their own culture, much like the cities of the Waking World once were.
As they walked, Cor was the first to speak again,
"We made it here roughly a month after we split from Wardens' group. It was tough, and we lost many good people along the way, but we eventually found this place, lost and having been infested with monsters."
It took us a few weeks, but we managed to clear it out enough to empower ourselves and face the guardian of the manor"
"We had never encountered a creature that strong before, but we managed to subdue it in the end and bring this place under our control."
Gesturing with one hand, Damian watched as a beautiful wooden manor came into view. Highlighted by the rising sun, it looked like a mystical palace once fit for a king, or maybe even a God.
Its front was fitted with a large window on one of the upper floors, where the silhouette of a man, hidden by the light, stood as he looked out over the small village below, from the hill it sat upon.
Now, as the light faded, the age came into view. The cracks and rotting cores of the ancient structure, the supports worn down by the elements, are causing the whole structure to tilt slightly into the dirt.
The once majestic structure is now reduced to nothing more than rot and decay.
Despite its dire state, however, dozens of Awakened were moving around it like insects, carrying supplies and slowly restoring it to its rightful glory. It would likely take many years to complete, but when it was, it would be a marvel of the new age.
Damian looked at the structure, then back at Cor. It was hard to tell with this man, but something about his expression changed as he looked upon the manor.
It was now Damian's turn to speak,
"It's good to see that so many people made it to the relative safety of the gateways on your end as well."
"Unlike you, we had not heard any news about your accomplishments, so we were unsure if you had survived or not."
"I always knew that you all would pull through, but I had no way to confirm that suspicion."
Damian held his breath for a moment before he looked at Cor with a far more serious expression,
"Times are changing rapidly, and we need all the support from the Awakened now more than ever. For ourselves and those of the Waking world."
Cor looked him over before an inquisitive look reached his eyes as he turned his head,
"Oh my, if I didn't know any better, I would think that this is a recruitment speech. Am I correct in that?"
The younger man let out a soft yet forced chuckle before he continued,
"If it were, I would hold my breath if I were you. Not for anything nefarious, I may say, I for one am curious about what you are talking about."
"It's just that it's not my decision to make. I'm simply the second in command here. If you want to try to recruit us or whatever your goal may be, I would recommend speaking to Prophet.
Stopping himself from continuing his current train of thought, Damian looked at the man and let out a small laugh,
"You are a sharp one, Cor. That's good, we need that now more than ever."
The two men continued walking, sharing idle chatter as they approached the manor.
Cor led Damian inside, then up a set of twisting stairs to the higher floors.
Soon they reached a large office, filled with an ornate desk and large bookcases which had been cleared of their rotten contents.
Masterful artworks hung on the walls as the figure of a man stood in front of a large window.
The man was covered in a blue and silver plate armour, decorated with flowing sigils that Damian recognised as runic sorcery.
His tall, muscular frame was hidden beneath. His ivory hair flowed down his back in a messy cascade, now reaching the centre of his back.
His ebony skin now seemed to glow with a slight golden hue, much like his eyes, which looked like liquid light as he turned to face Damian.
Now instead of a band of cloth covering the lower half of Prophets face a strange piece of metal sat there instead.
The metal was black and twisted, with eight long tendrils extending from its centre, like a spider, as they clung to his face, holding the strange object in place.
It looked as if a metallic spider had made its home riding the bottom half of his beautiful face.
His body screamed vitality as he fully turned and gestured a simple greeting towards Damian.
Unseen by Damian, a smile was creeping beneath Prophet's strange new mask.