The sunlight filtered gently through the tall windows of the ancient crystal tower, casting golden beams upon the dustless floor. Time had frozen around him—literally and metaphorically. Encased in a slumber neither peaceful nor cursed, Clark had lain untouched by years, wrapped in silence and myth. The kingdom below spoke of the invincible man who had fallen, not by blade or war, but by magic too strong for even him to withstand. And so, he waited—unknowing of time, untouched by dreams—until the moment your hand found his, and everything began to stir.

When his eyes opened, it was slow. The world returned in pieces: the warmth of your palm, the tremble in his chest, the way breath finally filled his lungs after what felt like a lifetime. Confusion flickered in his gaze, but it was gentle, full of awe. His voice cracked with the weight of waking, threaded with vulnerability rarely seen in legends. “You… you brought me back,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else, as if trying to believe it.