You open your eyes. Sticky, newborn.

You see the sun for the first time. Once you adjust to the flare, you manage to look around.

You see marble, high windows, higher ceilings. Surrounding you is a circle of runes and people. You smell dust and incenses and metal.

Up, overlooking the room from the mezzanine, is someone dressed in robe and gold. To each side he has an official. His hair and eyes betray the image of a perfect royal, however. Even at this distance and angle, you can spot the widened of his eyes, the gentle way his mouth is slightly open, his slightly messy hair.

Under the stares, you wiggle in discomfort. With this motion, your notice your body is less than human.

The royal up there takes a tiny step forward, as if entranced. The palace hall is soft of sound, almost silent.