Chapter 296: You Got Lucky, We Both Did
Draven surfaced from the dark incredibly slowly. The transition from sleep to wakefulness was a long, quiet drift.
The heavy, suffocating scent of drying blood, burning timber, and gray ash was completely gone. The air filtering into the room smelled crisp, cool, and unmistakably clean.
Draven slowly opened his pitch-black eyes.
He was lying on a crisp white hospital bed. The ceiling above him was pristine, painted plaster rather than the rotting, shattered brick of a warehouse. Bright, unfiltered morning sunlight poured through a large glass window, casting warm geometric squares across the sterile floor.
Then, the physical reality of his own body registered.
Every single muscle fiber he possessed throbbed with a deep, punishing ache. His ribs felt heavily bruised from the sheer kinetic recoil of fighting a Capital General. His jaw stung where Marek's iron dagger had sliced his skin.
