Naomi woke up abruptly, as though a strange, invisible force had pulled her from the depths of a dream she could no longer remember. Her eyes fluttered open, lashes trembling against the light filtering through the room. The air felt thick—heavy with something unspoken.
Sitting up slowly, her gaze landed on Zylan.
He was kneeling right in front of her.
His jaw was clenched tightly, body trembling ever so slightly. Though his eyes remained shut, the way his entire frame tensed told her enough. He was battling something inside him—something deep and consuming.
Softly, almost hesitantly, she called his name.
"Zylan…?"
His eyes snapped open at the sound of her voice. There was a flash of something in his expression—shock, fear, and then overwhelming relief. He looked as though he hadn't expected to hear her, as if her voice had reached him through a thick fog of despair.
