THOR
I woke up feeling a bit unwell. This was not due to pain, neither was it fatigue. It was something worse. Emptiness. Like something had been stripped from me in the middle of the night and my soul hadn’t yet realized it was gone.
“Thor! You're awake. How are you feeling?”
Deucalion’s voice echoed deeply in my ears as the door to my room flung open with urgency. His hurried footsteps closed the distance between us in seconds, relief washing over his face the moment he saw me sitting upright.
“I’m fine,” I answered before he could ask again, though it wasn't entirely true. “Except for this damn euphoric haze I can’t shake. It feels like I downed bottles of alcohol mixed with silverweed.”
“You’re alive. That’s all that matters.” He let out a slow breath.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
