The first thing Luke noticed was the cold air brushing across his face.
He blinked. Once. Then again. His body still felt heavy, limbs slightly stiff, and there was a distinct fuzziness in his mind—like waking up from a nap that had lasted just a little too long. As his vision adjusted, he realised the sky above had shifted into hues of violet and burnt orange. The last fingers of sunlight stretched across the horizon, painting the clouds in soft golds and deep purples.
Had he slept through the whole day?
He pushed himself upright gently, careful not to jostle the person beside him. Ilyrana was curled up close, her eyes closed, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest showing just how deeply she had drifted off. Her hair fluttered in the breeze, strands catching the final light of day like threads of silver. He smiled faintly and leaned back without disturbing her.
No dreams. Just blackness.
