Fragmented Light

Chapter 9: Awakening

Pain wasn't the first sense to return – its absence was. The hollow space where agony had lived felt wrong, like someone had scooped out her insides and replaced them with cotton wool and confusion. Her thoughts drifted like crystal dust in still air, trying to piece together what was real and what was fever-dream.

'Still dreaming,' she decided, cataloging alien sensations that couldn't possibly be real. The air tasted green. How could air taste green? That wasn't a thing. And the sounds – tiny explosions of silence that definitely weren't the proper mining equipment and ventilation noises a proper dream should have.

Her nose reported impossible things: growing things, living things, water that hadn't been recycled until it forgot it was water. 'Very creative, brain,' she thought hazily. 'Really outdoing yourself with the hallucinations this time.'

The bed beneath her felt wrong too – like floating in nothing while simultaneously being cradled by everything. Some kind of crystal tech hummed nearby, but it sounded... clean. Precise. Nothing like the jury-rigged symphony of survival that was Senna's clinic.

Senna. Jorran. The memory of their faces tried to surface through the fog.

'It's fine,' she told herself. 'They're probably just in another room. Just need to open my eyes and...'

She kept them firmly shut. Because as long as they were closed, this could still be a dream. Could still be fever-visions from whatever that stabilizer had done to her. Could still be—

A breeze touched her face.

Not recycled air. Not ventilation systems. Real wind, carrying scents her mind couldn't even begin to categorize.

'No no no. Not real. Can't be real. Because if it's real then I'm...'

Her thoughts scattered like startled tunnel rats as footsteps approached – not the heavy clank of mining boots or the sharp click of corp shoes, but something fluid. Graceful. Like someone who'd never had to worry about low ceilings or unstable floors.

"Our guest is awake," a voice observed quietly. "Though perhaps not ready to admit it yet."

The voice felt... warm. Like sunlight, if she knew what real sunlight felt like. It carried notes of gentle amusement and genuine concern in equal measure.

'Not real,' she insisted to herself as the footsteps drew closer. 'Just another fever dream. Just...'

"It's alright," the voice continued. "The first wake-up is always the hardest. Especially for those used to tunnel living. Take your time."

Something in his tone – understanding without pity – made her crack one eye open. Just a sliver. Just enough to—

Light. So much light. Not the sickly glow of lumina-strips or the harsh glare of corp sectors. This was... she had no words for what this was. It came through windows that couldn't be windows, crystal-glass alive with rainbow patterns that danced across walls so perfectly white they hurt to look at.

'Too much. Too open. Too—'

Her heart rate spiked. The tech around her responded with chimes of concern. Everything was wrong. Everything was—

"Breathe." The voice belonged to a tall man with copper skin and long braided hair. He moved with liquid grace as he adjusted something on the monitoring equipment. "Focus on my voice. You're safe here."

'Safe?' The word felt like a joke. 'Safe is dark tunnels and close walls and...'

She made the mistake of looking past him. Through the impossible windows. To where an endless blue void stretched forever, promising to swallow her whole if she let it.