Trafalgar's consciousness drifted upward slowly, as if dragging itself out of a swamp. His eyelids twitched first—heavy, uncooperative, three times harder to lift than they should've been. The familiar softness of the Morgain castle sheets pressed against his skin, too warm, too comfortable for what he last remembered.
'…What the hell…?'
He forced his eyes open. Light stabbed them. His breath hitched. The ceiling above him swam briefly in and out of focus, ornate carvings he had memorized months ago now looking foreign.
He tried moving an arm.
Pain. Not sharp—just everywhere. Like his entire skeleton had been disassembled and reattached incorrectly.
'Feels like I got trampled by a fucking stampede… Did Valttair bring me back here? No—someone must've dragged me. I was unconscious…'
He pushed himself upright.
Or tried to.
