Cedric Hanan opened his eyes to a blur of soft light and shadow. His head felt heavy, his body oddly weightless. At first, everything was hazy, like waking from a dream too vivid to leave behind but then, one thing came to him clearly.
The scent.
Lunareth Bloom.
It drifted in the air like a lullaby, sweet, ethereal, and unmistakably familiar. That fragrance had been woven into the very fabric of his childhood. His mother had always grown Lunareth along the eastern wall of their home in Fonswyn Vale. She believed it kept nightmares away and made a house feel truly alive. Whenever Cedric had fallen ill as a child, she would place crushed petals beneath his pillow and rub their oil into his temples.
Now, the scent was all around him, gentle, pure, and strangely comforting.
As his vision began to clear, shapes formed. A slanted wooden ceiling. A small window letting in pale sunlight. And then… a figure. Slumped in a chair beside his bed, her head tilted and chin resting on her chest, was his mother.
Her hair was a little grayer now, pulled into the same braid she used to wear when working in her garden. There were lines on her face he didn't remember..but he knew her instantly. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, still stained faintly with the dark pollen of Lunareth. She must have been tending the garden even now, just like always.
Cedric blinked back tears. His throat tightened.
"Mother… Mother…"
His voice was barely more than a whisper, raspy and uncertain.
Her eyes shot open. In a heartbeat, she was on her feet and at his side, gasping softly as her gaze met his. "Cedric…? My son, my sweet Ced…" She dropped to her knees beside the bed, throwing her arms around him as if she feared he might disappear again.
"You're awake… By the springs, you're finally awake!"
Cedric let himself be pulled into the embrace, his own arms weak but steady. He could feel her shaking, could hear the tears in her voice. His own eyes stung as he closed them, resting his head against her shoulder.
"Yes, Mother," he whispered. "I'm here."
They stayed like that for a long time, mother and son, bound together in relief and sorrow, the room filled with the soft golden light of morning and the ever-present aroma of Lunareth Bloom.
Eventually, she pulled back just enough to look at him. Her eyes were red from crying, but her smile was radiant. She gently touched his cheek, brushing away a smudge of dried dirt.
"You must be starving," she said, voice still thick with emotion. "Let me make you something warm to eat. Just rest, my sweet boy."
She stood, pausing only to tuck the blanket back around him before leaving the room.
Cedric lay back slowly, his breath unsteady, thoughts tangled in confusion and wonder.
Then something else struck him.
The pain was gone.
He blinked again, more alert now. He reached up, slowly, to touch his jaw, he remembered the blow, the crushing force of the Fawryn warrior's mace, but now, there was… nothing. No swelling, no bruise, not even a dull ache.
Frowning, he shifted under the blanket and cautiously lifted it.
His chest, once throbbing with broken ribs, now rose and fell steadily, painlessly. He ran his fingers down his sides, expecting tenderness, but there was none. He sat up more, peeled the blanket back further.
His scars. Even the old ones, earned in skirmishes and training fields, were gone.
His skin was smooth, unmarred, save for a single new mark just below the collarbone: a faint golden line, thin and shaped like a crescent moon. He stared at it for a long time, unsure if it was a scar, a blessing, or a brand.
The last thing he remembered was reaching for the golden lighthouse.
And then... darkness.
Now, he was whole. Alive. Somehow… changed.
The scent of Lunareth filled the room again, stirred by the breeze through the window, and with it came a memory not quite his own, of golden light, a voice he couldn't place, and something calling his name from far, far away.