A soft, gentle warmth—that was the first thing Celaus felt as he slowly came to. His head throbbed painfully, yet that dull ache was nothing compared to the strange unrest in his chest. Opening his eyes, he blinked against the sunlight streaming weakly through the wooden beams of the ceiling. His gaze lingered there, unblinking, as if grounding himself in the familiar structure was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.
"Oh my… he's awake."
A new, unfamiliar face appeared above him. Short, blond hair framed a pair of sharp, golden-rimmed irises, and despite the youth etched into his features, Celaus immediately recognized him. His heart skipped—a familiar warmth radiated from the boy, but it was tinged with anxiety. It was his youngest brother.
"Is he okay? Why isn't he talking? Do you think he has some brain damage?" The younger man's voice wavered as he stepped closer, concern pulling at every syllable.
