I wake without the smell of medicine.
No healers arguing over my head, no runic instruments beeping beside the bed, no one waiting to tell me how much of myself I'd wrecked this time. Only a pale ceiling, curtains half-drawn, and the weight of a whole chaotic morning pressed down inside my muscles.
I stay where I am.
The ear Rahul struck still rings, though the sound has pulled further off. My arms ache from the shoulders to the fingertips. The rest of my body feels like it was packed with sand while I slept.
Nothing says I'm injured.
It's worse in a less urgent way. My body accepted everything I threw at it over the last few days, and the moment the fight ended, it decided to collect all at once.
I move my eyes across the room.
