When consciousness returned, it did not arrive as a clean break between darkness and awareness. It unfolded slowly, as if my mind resisted coming back to a reality it had not yet agreed to accept.
The first thing I noticed was the stillness.
Not the natural quiet of the forest, where life moved beneath the surface even when unseen, but a contained kind of silence, one that felt shaped rather than born. The air was heavier here, warmer, lacking the wild edge I had grown used to. It pressed closer to my skin, as though the space itself was holding me in place.
I became aware of the ground beneath me next, uneven stone that carried a faint chill despite the enclosed warmth. The texture grounded me more effectively than sight ever could, reminding me that wherever I was, it was real.
And then—
I felt him.
