(Apollo) Consciousness did not return as a gentle rising, nor as any waking a mortal might recognise. It hauled him upward through a mire thick as pitch, a slow, suffocating ascent through a heaviness that clung to thought and breath alike, each stratum pressing down with the weight of centuries as awareness fought to reforge itself from fragments. Sound arrived first, not as clarity, but as a distant tolling, a hollow resonance that reverberated through bone rather than air, followed by the uneven cadence of his own breath, shallow and belated, as though his lungs had forgotten the ancient rhythm and now struggled to recall it beneath some infernal burden. Sensation followed, but it would not condescend to order. Pain did not gather itself into a single, sovereign point. Instead, it surfaced in scattered fragments across his form, a dull, dragging ache through his ribs, a deeper, tearing awareness along his leg where the blade had trespassed, and the lingering, misaligned void wher
Magbasa pa