Ningyan's head hurt.
It was not a dull ache, but a deep, vicious pain that seemed to split his skull apart from within.
He wanted to scream, yet even drawing breath felt like pulling glass into his lungs. His muscles locked tightly beneath his robes, his fingers curling helplessly against the sheets.
A cool hand settled softly against his forehead.
The touch was strangely soothing. The blinding pain receded by degrees, his rigid body slowly relaxing as an invisible, comforting force pressed the internal turmoil back into silence.
His consciousness sank once more into darkness.
When he awoke again, the first thing Ningyan saw was the warm glow of lanterns.
They hung from the carved wooden beams of an unfamiliar chamber, their golden light spilling softly across polished floors and delicate furnishings.
The room was quiet.... unnaturally so.
The faint fragrance of flowers lingered in the air, mingling with the subtle, grounding scent of sandalwood.
