By evening, Ember stirred in her sleep, waking much sooner than she had after Draven marked her. Draven and Evanthe weren't surprised; it was a proof to how much stronger she had become over the past few months. Her powers were gradually coming under her control.
She opened her drowsy eyes, feeling disoriented, unsure of where she was or what was happening. Draven, who had been sitting nearby, unwilling to leave her side in case she woke up, quickly moved to her. Evanthe remained seated, understanding that only Draven was needed at this moment. Her gaze shifted to the still-unconscious Morpheus, uncertain of when he would wake.
"Are you awake?" Draven asked, sitting at the edge of the bed.
At the sound of Draven's voice, Ember turned to him as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Draven?" she murmured.
He took her hand gently. "How are you feeling?"
She looked around, confused, taking a moment to recognize her surroundings. "What happened?"
