I woke up to the smell of dry hay and woodsmoke.
There was no white void. No server room. No smell of burning ozone or the metallic tang of blood. Just the earthy, grounding scent of a morning fire.
I opened my eyes. I was staring up at a thatched roof, darkened by years of smoke. Sunlight streamed through a small, square window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.
I sat up. The bed was a straw mattress covered in rough wool blankets. The room was small—a wooden table, a single chair, a shelf with a few clay pots.
"What..." My voice was raspy. I cleared my throat. "Kaelen? Lysandra?"
Silence.
I threw off the blanket and stood up. My body felt... different. Not injured, but stiffer. Calloused. My hands—I looked at them. They were rougher, stained with dirt and plant sap. The quill tattoo was gone. The geometric scars from the Source Fragments were gone.
I touched my face. I needed a shave.
"Where are they?" I muttered, panic starting to coil in my stomach.
