"It's only a sprain. Stay here, Johann, I'll fetch you some ice," Paul said while steadying Rowan as he lowered him onto a broad, flat stone before hurrying off.
"Alright… but hurry back," Rowan answered with a faint smile.
Once Paul left, he leaned back, letting the cool afternoon breeze kiss his skin. He shut his eyes and inhaled deeply, savoring the freshness of the air. For a brief moment, the ache in his ankle faded and was replaced by the illusion of peace.
He imagined himself lying in a meadow, grass brushing his fingertips, the sound of the horses nearby in the stables as well as sunlight warm against his face. His chest loosened, as though he'd slipped out of duty and pain, if only for a breath.
But when Rowan opened his eyes again, the vision vanished. And replaced by a tall, imposing figure who stood in front of him, casting a shadow that stole the light. His lungs seized as though the air had been knocked out of him.
