Cassian stirred slightly within the softness he felt beneath his back.
As he woke from his slumber, the first sound he heard was the peaceful melody of a nearby fire crackling the wood.
When he opened his eyelids, his eyes fixed on the wooden ceiling. For a while, he just watched those wood patterns.
The freezing cold of the North... The bloodstains on the snow... General Hareth's desperate cry... And that white-haired woman.
That witch who stood like a dark reflection of himself, who froze his soul when she held his hand.
"Ah..." a groan escaped his lips. "Was I really kidnapped!"
He slowly sat up in the bed.
There was a slight ache in his head, but he didn't feel any scars or magical damage on his body.
When he looked at himself, he realized his own clothes were gone.
Instead, there was a white fabric, as soft as silk, draped over his skin.
A strange, loose, and comfortable outfit resembling the tunics on Ancient Greek statues, leaving one shoulder exposed.
