Icarius's eyes fluttered open, his eyelids heavy. Above him stretched a ceiling of polished red marble, the kind he had only glimpsed in the wealthiest homes of Silva Village. He tried to rise, but his body felt like an anchor searching for the sea floor. A gentle hand pressed him back against the bed.
"You shouldn't move," a soft female voice whispered at his ear. The gentle tone reminded him of his mother, when she comforted him to sleep. "You have spent too much Divine Energy, and your body and soul still didn't go through the awakening, without time to get used to it. You need more time to recover."
Icarius slowly turned his head, his gaze falling on a woman with hair the color of flame and eyes to match, bright, unearthly red. He had seen this color in plants and animals, but never in a human. She was beautiful. When she caught him staring, she offered a warm, calming smile.
"Rest, child," she said simply. And before he could resist, his body sank deeper into the bed, his limbs feeling like clouds as the world slipped back into darkness.
When he woke again, the room was swallowed by darkness. He couldn't see even his own hand before his face. But his body felt renewed, not a single thread of the previous exhaustion. And, for the first time in years, he slept without a nightmare.
Icarius pushed himself to sit on the bed, his eyes trying to pierce through the mantle of darkness. He wasn't in his room. There was no sight of Giorgio. The previous scene at the beach reminded him that he was somewhere strange. He instinctively reached for his bow, but his fingers met only empty air.
"I hope Giorgio is fine." The words escaped his lips like a prayer.
He didn't know how long he had been asleep. The thought made his chest tighten. He rapidly got up, his hands reaching for the wall, feeling his way along the small room until he found a door.
He turned the knob without hesitation, his fist clenched and ready to strike. But when he stepped out, it wasn't the edge of a blade or the noose of execution that greeted him, it was the sky.
Above, two full moons loomed, casting their cold light like watchful gods over the land. Icarius froze. Two moons? That was impossible. The heavens had never hidden more than one. For a moment, he wondered if this was the underworld
He tore his gaze from the sky and looked down at the world below. The land sloped gently away from where he stood, unveiling a vast valley bathed in torchlight. At its heart sprawled a massive training ground, with hundreds of battle arenas, torches delineating each one of them. At the center rose a towering red pyramid crowned by a roaring bonfire, and above it, suspended without chain or hook, floated a golden-crested helmet.
Icarius knew that helm.
"Ares's Symbol…" he whispered.