Kaelen jerked awake with a ragged gasp. His body snapped upright before his mind caught up. His heart hammered against his ribs. Each beat sharp enough to hurt. Cold sweat clung to his skin. It soaked the collar of his shirt and plastered strands of hair across his forehead.
The room lay silent around him. Only breathing could be heard. The whispers lingered in the corners. Voices that no longer existed.
His chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths. He pressed a trembling hand against his face. Half expecting to find blood. Ash. The wounds he had carried only moments before. There was nothing. Only warm skin and shaking fingers.
Moonlight spilled through the window. Pale silver across the floor. Familiar shapes slowly emerged from the darkness. The desk, the chair, the stack of books beside the bed. Ordinary things. Safe things. He stared at them until the terror loosened its grip. Though it never truly left.
