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    Summary

    The first thing Viktor feels when he wakes up after being spat out by the Arcane is pain.
    He doesn’t make any noise. He’s used to it.
    What he’s not used to is the sudden, featherlight touch of someone else’s fingers on his face, softly brushing aside a lock of Viktor’s hair, as if he was something precious and fragile.
    “Hey,” someone says next to him. A deep rumble with a soothing tone. It’s not his mother’s voice. Viktor can’t remember his father’s. But this is familiar. It stirs something inside him, something deep and important that rises like a cresting wave in his chest. “Please open your eyes, Vik. Please, please, please…”

    Language:
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    Words:
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