Daelan POV
I wake up to the unfamiliar scent of something… warm. Savory. Food. Real food—not the stale, metallic tang of ration bars or the oily smell of street vendors selling questionable meat. No, this is something richer—eggs, maybe, with spices I can't name but my senses latch onto like a lifeline.
My eyes snap open.
For a split second, my mind screams danger. I sit up abruptly, heart racing, instinctively reaching for a dagger that isn't strapped to my side. The softness beneath me feels foreign—sheets as smooth as silk, a mattress that cradles my weight instead of bruising it.
I glance around, disoriented.
