Chapter Text
The soft murmur of voices filtered through the haze of Alethea's sleep, but it was the gentle pressure on his shoulder that coaxed him awake. His eyelid fluttered open, and the world around him came into focus slowly, like a painting coming to life in layers. The sterile white walls of the hospital room were still there, unchanging, but the soft light of the early morning cast a warmer glow over everything. His skin, though tender and sore, no longer felt quite as raw as it had the night before. Thanks to the wonders of painkillers.
The quiet dripping of the IV was the first thing he registered — then the distant sound of footsteps, light and rhythmic. He blinked again, adjusting his gaze, and saw the nurse standing beside his bed, her expression a mix of professionalism and kindness.
"Good morning, Alethea," she said softly, her voice gentle but steady. "How are you feeling?"
It took a moment for him to process the question. His mind still felt clouded, as if the weight of sleep had not yet fully lifted from him. He opened his mouth to speak but found his throat dry, the words struggling to form.
The nurse smiled sympathetically. "I know, sweetie. You're still recovering. Let me get you some water."
She placed a small glass in his hand and Alethea drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat. As he set the glass down, he glanced around the room, the silence suddenly feeling more pronounced now that the haze of sleep had cleared.
The nurse hesitated for a moment, watching him closely, before she spoke again.
"You have a visitor," she said, her voice calm but with an undercurrent of something Alethea couldn't quite place.
Alethea blinked, his mind still sluggish. "A visitor?" he echoed, his voice hoarse. "Who...?"
The nurse smiled again, a soft glimmer of understanding in her eyes. "I'm not sure if you remember him. But he’s been asking for you since you arrived."
Alethea's brow furrowed as he tried to think, the name or face of this visitor elusive. He searched his mind, but the only image that came to him was a blur of flames — nothing clear, nothing tangible.
Before he could voice his confusion, the nurse's voice broke through again.
"I’ll bring him in now. Just try to rest, okay? You don't have to talk if you're not ready."
With that, she turned and disappeared through the door, leaving Alethea alone in the quiet room once more. The faint sounds of the hospital drifted back into his awareness—the shuffle of feet in the hallway, the distant chatter of staff — but his thoughts were fixed on the mystery of this visitor.
He closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to gather his scattered thoughts. But as the door creaked open again, he couldn’t help the flutter of nerves in his chest. Someone was coming. Someone who had been waiting for him, someone important enough to stand by his side through the haze of his injury. But who?
The nurse stepped aside, and in the doorway stood a figure he hadn’t expected.
A small, well-built man with long, dark hair and tan skin, his features sharp but soft in a way that suggested kindness. His mulberry coloured eyes, deep and searching, locked onto his with an intensity that startled him.
"Alethea," he said softly, his voice like the caress of an ocean breeze. "It’s me."