Zephyr woke up, not with a gasp or jolt—just a slow, grainy blink. His eyes burned, crusted with dust, and everything was dim and gray, like waking inside a dying storm.
More importantly, his body didn't hurt. That was the first warning.
Pain was the signal of life. Pain screamed keep going. But now? Now there was only a thick, alien weight. Like he'd been buried in the ocean floor.
Stone pressed against his spine. Above, a broken ceiling let shafts of light spear through drifting motes of dust. Somewhere far away, the earth vibrated—muffled booms echoed like war drums under water.
His thoughts were sluggish, blurred by trauma.
'That animal'.
The memory of the thunder boy surged forward—savage, smiling, merciless, and the brutal beat down. A shiver passed through Zephyr's bones.
He tried to sit up, agony bloomed instantly, pain lanced through his chest like molten iron. His ribs flared. Arms refused to lift, he collapsed back with a choked breath, blood wet on his lips.
