When Julian Sterling drifted back into consciousness, the world felt like it was composed of nothing but lead and shadows. He lay there, pinned to the mattress by an overwhelming lethargy that seemed to seep into his very marrow. His body was a map of dull aches and sharp reminders of the night before, leaving him so utterly drained that the mere thought of shifting his weight felt like an insurmountable task. The room was shrouded in a heavy, artificial night. The thick velvet curtains were drawn so tightly that not a single stray beam of sunlight from Saint Lawrence City could find its way inside to disturb his weary eyes.
