Here's an enhanced and polished version of your chapter titled "Waking Up to a Stranger." I've refined grammar, improved flow and emotional pacing, strengthened characterization, and prese
Damien woke with the sunlight warming his face, the soft tickle of grass beneath him, and the familiar ache that came after pushing his body—and magic—to the limit. Every muscle throbbed, and his clothes were still soaked in blood and gore from the previous day's violent battle. He groaned and sat up slowly, brushing his hands down his torso as if trying to wipe away the memories with the dried blood.
It was becoming a disturbing pattern—passing out, waking up injured, and always covered in someone else's blood.
With a sigh, he cast Divine Touch on himself. A soft golden glow emanated from his hands, knitting together torn muscle, restoring energy, and purging the lingering exhaustion. As clarity returned, he glanced around the enclosed stone dome he had created before collapsing.
Then he heard it—a startled gasp, followed by the shuffling of someone scrambling away.
He turned his head and locked eyes with the woman he'd saved. She was pressed against the curved stone wall as though trying to melt into it. Her wide emerald eyes, once dulled with terror and fatigue, were now slightly clearer—but filled with fresh fear. She looked as though she'd rather vanish than be in his presence.
Damien kept his voice calm. "Hey. You're awake."
The woman flinched at his voice. She was tall for a woman—her head would reach Damien's chest—and despite her unevenly cut, mud-stained hair, there was no denying her natural beauty. Athletic, with a soft curve to her form and pale skin flushed from recent fear. Her hands trembled as she began to speak.
"I—I'm sorry… I used the water… to drink… and to clean myself. I—ate some of the fruit too. I—I couldn't help it. I thought… I thought I might die if I didn't…" Her voice quivered with desperation and shame. She wouldn't meet his gaze.
Damien raised his hands slowly, palms open in a gesture of peace. "It's okay. Really. I left it there for you."
She blinked, confused. "You… did?"
"You were in bad shape. I figured you'd need food and water. I'm just glad you're doing better."
The woman swallowed hard. "T-thank you. I—uh… I do need a privy though. I only drank a little before I started washing… I know I shouldn't have but—"
"It's alright," Damien said quickly, feeling a bit guilty. In his exhaustion, he hadn't even considered that. "I should've made better arrangements for you."
He took a step toward her, intending to offer help, but she recoiled violently, pressing herself against the wall, eyes wide with terror.
Damien froze. Hands raised again, he said softly, "I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. You've… been through a lot. I just want to help."
To make himself less threatening, Damien summoned his locker from his inventory. When the magical storage shimmered into view, the woman gasped again, eyes now filled with dread. Her voice cracked. "Y-you're a mage?"
Her legs gave out and she collapsed to her knees, staring blankly at the floor. All the color drained from her face. "Gods help me…" she whispered.
Damien cursed inwardly. This was clearly not going the way he'd hoped. He hated situations like this—emotionally charged, fragile, volatile. But he couldn't walk away now.
He pulled out a clean shirt, shorts, and a pair of simple slide-on shoes. He even sliced the backs of the sandals with a conjured blade to better fit her smaller feet. Then he gently placed the bundle a few steps away from her, retreated to the far side of the dome, and conjured a waist-high divider wall between them.
With a flick of his wrist, he purified the used water in the basin and refilled it using his water affinity. He lowered its height and rolled it closer to the wall. A brief surge of fire magic warmed the water until steam curled from its surface.
He spoke without turning around. "There's a basin now—clean and warm. You can wash in peace. I've turned away, and I'll stay like this until you're done. And I left clothes and shoes for you. Please… take your time. My name is Damien. Damien Sorlen."
There was a long silence. Then—
"The bandits…" Her voice rose with urgency. "They were chasing me. We have to go. If they come back—"
"They won't," Damien interrupted, his tone flat.
That shut her up fast. Not because of how he said it, but because of the weight behind his words. Something dark. Something final.
Selene watched his still back. His shoulders seemed heavy—not with threat, but with regret. He wasn't proud of what he'd done, that much was clear. And that… that was oddly comforting. The last men who had power over her had laughed while others screamed. This man… this mage… seemed burdened by the lives he'd taken.
Wordlessly, she picked up the clothes and stepped behind the wall. Stripping off the filthy rags she'd been forced to wear, she slipped into the warm bath with a quiet sigh that turned into a soft giggle. She splashed, kicked, and let herself smile—truly smile—for the first time in what felt like years.
The bath water eventually cooled. She dressed in the oversized, strange garments—softer than any fabric she'd ever worn—and peeked around the wall. Damien was still sitting in the same spot, staring blankly at the stone wall.
"Um… Sir Mage?"
He blinked, roused from his thoughts. "Yes?"
"I still… need the privy."
Damien sighed. "For that, I'd have to touch you. To use Divine Touch, I mean."
Selene's heart sank. She knew it. It was all a trick. A trap. Her blood ran cold.
But Damien didn't move. He just stayed sitting there. "Think about it," he said calmly. "You woke up fully clothed, completely healed. No scars. That spell is what closed your wounds. If I meant to hurt you, I wouldn't have waited."
His voice was firm now, a note of frustration creeping in. "Do you want me to help you, or not?"
Selene hesitated. She remembered the way the arrow had torn through her leg. The unbearable pain. The blood. And now… not even a mark. Magic or not, it was a miracle. Slowly, she approached him.
Damien lifted his hand, still not looking at her. Selene reached out, hesitated, then placed her fingers lightly on his.
A yellow glow pulsed from his palm, enveloping her body. She gasped aloud. The pressure vanished from her abdomen. The fatigue faded from her limbs. Every ache, every tight muscle, vanished. It was like waking from a dream into a new, perfect body.
She stared at her hands. "I feel… incredible."
Damien nodded. "That's what it does."
She was quiet for a long moment, then spoke, voice soft. "Selene."
"Hm?"
"My name. It's Selene."