The pain did not come all at once.
It waited.
Shunya realized this when he tried to move.
At first, it was simple. A small shift of his fingers. A slow inhale. The familiar ache in his ribs reminded him he was still injured, still real. That part he expected.
Then he tried to sit up.
The world tilted.
Not dizziness. Not vertigo.
Something deeper.
His muscles locked halfway through the motion, like invisible hands had seized them. Fire raced up his spine. His chest seized so hard his breath cut off with a sharp sound he could not control.
He collapsed back onto the bed.
Vikoria was there instantly. Her hands caught his shoulders before he could roll off the edge.
"Do not move," she said, voice sharp with fear. "Shunya. Stop."
He lay there gasping, heart hammering violently against his ribs. Every heartbeat sent a pulse of pain outward, branching into his arms and legs like cracks spreading through glass.
This was not normal exhaustion.
This was not injury.
