The first thing Kaelen noticed was the smell of incense.
It was faint, carried on cool air that brushed his face. Beneath it lingered the scent of damp stone, old wood, and something floral he couldn't identify.
The second thing he noticed was the silence.
Not the oppressive silence of the dungeon, where every quiet moment seemed to conceal something waiting to tear him apart. This silence felt different. It had weight, but no threat. It settled over him like a blanket, broken only by the distant ringing of a bell.
Once.
Twice.
Kaelen opened his eyes.
Above him stretched a wooden ceiling, dark with age. Thick beams crossed overhead, joined by intricate brackets carved into the shapes of clouds and curling leaves. Thin strips of morning light slipped through narrow gaps between the roof tiles, illuminating tiny motes of dust drifting through the air.
He stared at the ceiling for several seconds.
Then he sat up too quickly.
Pain shot through his head.
"Ah, damn it."
