The vision unfolded with clarity.

Ligon found himself in a tavern thick with noise. Mugs slamming, laughter spilling, the air alive with smoke and the sour bite of ale.

In the far corner, a fight erupted. A tavern maid squaring off against a burly warrior.

“Say that again, you disgusting oaf.” Her voice cut through the noise. Calm. Icy.

"Oh come on, sweetheart,” the man slurred, leering. “ I just said I'd love to ram you right here. Hard and rough. Don’t act like you’re innocent. ...