Avin didn't know how long he'd been asleep, but when he finally opened his eyes, he felt—different.
Not just rested.Repaired.
He blinked at the ceiling, inhaling deeply. The air was crisp, cool, and carried that faint metallic freshness of magically cleansed spaces. His whole body felt lighter. No soreness. No bruises tugging at his muscles when he moved. The faint scars that had scratched along his arm from the last fight—gone.
He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. No stiffness. No pain. It was as though the last several days had been erased from his body.
He flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders. Nothing. Just the smooth, fluid motion of someone who hadn't fought a single battle in months.
"Huh."
He tilted his head, curious, and then muttered under his breath, "Must be the Primordial."
The name came naturally, like a quiet acknowledgment of divine maintenance.
