CHAPTER 65: LUCRAS
LUCIEN'S POV
I woke up gasping, my lungs burning as if I had been physically submerged in an ocean of liquid ice.
The transition from the pristine, white expanse of my dream back into the dim reality of my private study was a violent, disorienting shock to my nervous system. I sat bolt upright on my small sleeping cot, my heart hammering a frantic, erratic rhythm against my ribs. The heavy leather diagnostic ledgers, ancient texts, and unrolled cartography charts that cluttered my desk looked entirely foreign to me in the pale, flickering amber light of the essence crystals. My hands were shaking so violently that I had to press my palms flat against the cold stone floor just to anchor myself to the physical world.
I was completely, profoundly shaken. My skin felt hyper-sensitive, prickling with a phantom chill that had nothing to do with the subterranean drafts of Blackmoor's archives.
