Darkness.

It wrapped around you, thick and suffocating, pressing in from all sides like the depths of the ocean. You were weightless, adrift in an abyss where time and thought did not exist. Faint echoes stirred in the void—whispers of something distant, something warm. A voice. Calling to you.

A dull, throbbing ache spread through your skull, dragging you toward wakefulness. Your limbs felt impossibly heavy, wrapped in something soft and silken, but your body pulsed with soreness, like you had been broken and put back together wrong.

The first sensation beyond pain was the press of heat against your skin. A firm but gentle grip, cradling your wrist. Fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles against your pulse. Another hand—calloused, steady—cupping the side of your face.

The world swam before you in a haze of gold and red. The dim glow of lanterns flickered against the dark wood of the ceiling, casting long shadows across the room.

A man sat beside you, so close his warmth bled into your skin. His grip on your wrist tightened slightly as if sensing your stirring. His other hand—rough but careful—remained against your cheek, thumb barely brushing along your temple. He had golden eyes. Wide, aching, full of something raw and desperate. His hair was slightly unkempt, strands falling into his face, and deep shadows framed his tired features. A scar marred the left side of his face, an angry burn stretching from his temple to his cheekbone. Something in your chest clenched.

The fabric against your skin was rich, heavier than what you were used to. Silk sheets pooled around you, the deep crimson embroidered with gold patterns. You weren’t wearing your usual water tribe garb—no thick furs, no blue tones. Instead, the robe draped over your body was lighter, softer. Fire Nation silk.

Your breath hitched as your muscles tensed. Your heart pounded, but your body was too weak to move properly. The man’s grip remained firm, grounding, but not forceful.

"You're awake.”