Daron's eyes snapped open, the echoes of clashing swords fading from his mind.
He sat up, the remnants of the dream still vivid—a faceless dark figure cutting through a sea of bodies on a blood-soaked battlefield. Shaking his head, he pushed the unsettling images aside.
His gaze drifted down, taking in the rumpled suit he still wore from yesterday.
"Fell asleep without even undressing. Brilliant, Daron," he muttered, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. The cold wood welcomed his bare feet as he stood up, stretching out the kinks in his neck.
Walking across the room, Daron approached the closet door, intrigued by what he might find inside. He opened it, revealing a collection of impeccably tailored suits in various shades and styles. Each one whispered of masterful craftsmanship, the fabric seeming to shimmer even in the dim light.
These must be Edmund's creations.
Daron reached out, fingering the sleeve of a charcoal pinstripe. The material was softer than anything he'd ever touched, like woven silk and shadows. He glanced back at the bed, remembering the exhaustion that had claimed him so fully he couldn't even change out of his clothes.
Suppose I should freshen up.
He turned from the closet with the intention of making himself presentable for whatever the day might bring.
Daron's fingers worked deftly, unbuttoning his wrinkled shirt as he crossed the threshold into the bathroom. He shrugged out of his clothes, letting them fall to the floor in a crumpled heap.
The bathroom was compact, but not cramped. It was just the right size. Daron's gaze landed on the shower, a glass enclosure that promised refreshment. He reached in, twisting the knob. A blast of icy water erupted from the showerhead and he stepped under it without hesitation.
The cold was a shock to his system, chasing away the last vestiges of sleep and the unsettling dream that clung to his consciousness. Daron tilted his head back, letting the water cascade over his face, the chill seeping into his bones. It was invigorating, a jolt of adrenaline that sharpened his senses and cleared his mind.
He stood there for a long moment, eyes closed, relishing the numbing embrace of the water. Daron reached for the soap, lathering it over his lean frame, his fingers tracing the dark scars that marred his skin.
The water swirled around his feet down the drain. Daron emerged from the shower, his skin prickling with goosebumps, feeling cleansed and refreshed. He grabbed a towel, the soft fabric a welcome warmth as he patted himself dry.
Stepping up to the mirror he took a look at himself. His reflection stared back at him, a stranger and yet achingly familiar.
His hair was longer, falling on his shoulders in damp waves, shot through with streaks of inky black. His face was thinner, cheekbones sharp beneath skin that seemed paler, making the shadows under his eyes all the more pronounced. Daron leaned closer, studying the dark circles that seemed to have taken up permanent residence.
"Guess a good night's sleep can't erase everything," he muttered, his fingers tracing the skin beneath his left eye. The black scars stood out in stark relief against his skin, a twisted roadmap of his suffering. They snaked over his torso, his arms, his legs—a constant reminder of the pain he'd endured and survived.
Daron looked down on his hands, to the black nails that had grown back after being torn away. A shudder ran through him at the memory and he curled his fingers into fists, taking a deep breath to steady himself.
I'm not that helpless boy anymore, I'll never let anyone hurt me or the people I care about ever again. I'll become strong enough to protect them all.
Daron straightened, squaring his shoulders as he met his own gaze in the mirror. The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with danger and secrets, but from now on he'd walk it with his head held high.
Daron stepped out of the bathroom, the towel wrapped around his waist. He paused in front of the closet, eyes scanning the array of suits hanging neatly inside. His fingers trailed over the fine fabrics, marveling at the intricate details.
Daron reached for a simple white shirt, the fabric soft beneath his touch. He slipped it on, relishing the way it settled against his skin. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, exposing some of the scars that marred his forearms.
He considered the jackets, but decided against one. He needed to breathe and with the training today he thought it would be best to wear something light.
As he finished dressing, a thought struck him. He'd been so caught up in his own troubles, that he'd almost forgotten about the one person who'd reached out to him in the midst of it all.
Anne.
Her gift was still in his jacket, waiting to be opened.
Daron rummaged through the pockets, his fingers brushing against the smooth surface of his MagiTech phone. He pulled it out, the device coming to life at his touch.
A few taps, and he was in his contacts. SMF members, their names and numbers already stored. Scarlett, Ali, Laurence... Even some names he didn't recognize at all.
His thumb hovered over the "Add New Contact" button. He hesitated, then punched in the number, the one she'd scribbled on a scrap of paper.
The phone seemed to mock him, Anne's name staring back from the screen. A lifeline, a connection to the world he'd left behind.
Daron then took out the small present. A knot formed in his stomach, a tangle of emotions he couldn't quite unravel. Anticipation, fear, longing... all warring within him.
His fingers brushed against the wrapping paper, ready to tear it away, to reveal the mystery inside...
A soft knock at the door shattered the moment.
He set the phone and the present aside. The knock came again, more insistent this time. Daron opened the door, to see who knocked.
Scarlett stood in the doorway, a vision of elegance and poise. Her dark-red hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face that bore a warm, inviting smile. Forest-green eyes sparkled as she took a look at him. She wore a white top and dark leggings.
"Good morning, Daron," she greeted with her silky voice. "I trust you slept well?"
Daron blinked, momentarily caught off guard by her presence. "I... yeah, I did. Thanks."
Scarlett's smile widened. "Excellent. I was just on my way to breakfast and thought you might like to join me. The dining hall serves a rather impressive spread."
The mention of food sent a rumble through Daron's stomach, reminding him of just how hungry he was. The events of the previous day had left little time for proper meals.
"That sounds great, actually," he replied, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "I'm starving."
Scarlett chuckled, a melodic sound that seemed to fill the room. "I thought as much. You had quite the introduction yesterday. A good meal will do you wonders."
She stepped back, gesturing for him to follow. Daron hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the unopened present on the bed.
But the promise of food and Scarlett's easy companionship was too tempting to resist. With a decisive nod, he stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him.
"Lead the way," he said, falling into step beside her.
Together, they strode down the hallway, the scent of breakfast wafting up to greet them.