Auren sat up on the bed suddenly, as if breaking free from a dream, the bliss slipping away like smoke between his fingers. His breathing came uneven but slow, his eyes darting here and there, trying to anchor themselves to the tiny room. His gaze finally dropped to Sukamu.
Sukamu reached out, his voice steady, soft as winter wind. "Hey… rest. Rest well. You're in no position to move yet." His hand pressed gently against Auren's thick white sweater—the one Nova Makai had gifted him.
Auren's trembling hand fell slowly onto the blanket, his eyes widening with worry. His voice, cracked and dry, cut through the still air."My friends… they're still fighting. In that place… that big place. I need to go there. I need to make them safe. I can't just sit here anymore!"
His words grew heavier, tumbling out like stones. His palms shook, his body quivering. His worry rose inside him like a raging tide—wild, uncontrollable. He tried to climb off the bed, his broken limbs betraying him.
