Adam's awareness seeped back into a world of soft, diffused light and muffled silence. The crushing agony of his wounds had dulled to a deep, throbbing ache that permeated his entire being.
He was lying on something yielding yet strong, not the hard stone of the canyon floor. Blinking open heavy-lidded eyes, his vision resolved into a ceiling of intricate, pale silk, woven into a protective dome that encapsulated the space. It was a cocoon of safety, unmistakably Lilith's work.
A gentle, familiar presence brushed the edge of his mind. Turning his head, a movement that sent fresh spikes of pain through his neck, he saw her. Lilith, the Crimson Weave Sovereign, was perched nearby. Several of her elegant legs were clearly damaged, held at careful angles, and her pale carapace was dull and bore cracks. Yet, her primary cluster of eyes was fixed on him, and in their multi-faceted depths, he saw a profound wave of relief and lingering worry.
