"No, Natasha, wait for me!"
He remembered a sea of fire; two little girls hugged each other as they shivered; they looked terrified.
He watched that memory unfold and tried to reach out to his two daughters.
Crack!
Then, the scene cracked like a mirror embedded in a picture frame.
Sven burst into a cold sweat and panted violently.
'I'm dead?'
Sven touched his neck; it had been wrapped in gauze that was soaked in blood. Just a slight touch would cause intense pain, but it reminded him that he was still alive.
'Where am I?'
Sven turned his head with difficulty; he was laid on a big soft bed. The head of the bed was close to a big window; the weak sunset illuminated his body in orange. There were all kinds of furniture in the room. It looked very expensive, and there were two murals on the wall.
"Sir, you're awake."
