Damien’s pov:
I slept.
Not the kind of half-sleep I had been surviving on for weeks, where my eyes closed but my mind stayed armed. Not the shallow drifting that broke at every sound, every imagined scream. This was different. This was heavy and absolute, like my body finally dragged my mind down with it and refused to let go.
When I opened my eyes, I didn’t know where I was at first.
The ceiling above me was unfamiliar in its calm. No exposed beams. No flickering light. No dust in the air. Just the quiet luxury of my room in the Vescari mansion, untouched by war. My body felt too still and warm. My limbs were heavy, my head dull, like I had been drugged.
I sat up abruptly.
Pain flared behind my eyes, a reminder that rest did not erase damage. My knuckles were still bruised. My ribs
