*Isaac*

Whatever dreamlike state I’ve been suspended in lifts, replaced by soft, golden light. I open sore eyes and blink away the blurriness, that dreamscape replaced by the rippling, swirling mural of florals painted on the ceiling in my bedroom.

My bedroom back home at the castle.

I don’t move. I’m not sure if I’m actually here, or if this is another trick of my mind. The last several weeks don’t seem real at all. Not the war, not the battles, not the ...