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Richard Heartveil woke up and stretched on his bed, then yawned.
He opened his eyes groggily and stared at the ceiling. His mind was still hazy, but if there was anything he knew, he felt good. He slept so good and well that he couldn't even remember the last time he experienced it.
Then, he frowned. For some reason, his instincts were telling him that he was experiencing something strange.
He rubbed his eyes and opened them once more. To his surprise, his eyesight was actually good—no, better.
Richard wasn't wearing his glasses, but he could see the ceiling clearly as if it were literally just in front of him. He could see the grooves, the cracks, and the aging wood it's made of.
That was strange. Because even with his glasses, he knew that his vision wasn't this sharp and clear. It had been, once upon a time, but after that injury, not anymore.
This is where he noticed more strange things within him.
