Silence.
Then— a yawn.
Zephyr opened his eyes, yawning. He felt pure relief flood his body.
There was no pain, no searing nerves and no broken bones screaming at his every movement. Just the feeling of cool air, like starlight made tangible, brushing gently across his skin.
He was lying on something soft— no, not soft. Weightless. A plane of mist and starlight stretched in all directions, infinite yet contained.
Above him, a vast cosmos unfurled— swirling galaxies, fractal nebulae, rivers of shifting silver-blue light threading through the heavens like living veins.
The stars pulsed.
Each pulse echoed in his chest.
"...Aren't I supposed to be dead?" His voice came out hoarse, like it hadn't been used in years.
He 'sat up'— slowly, instinctively. Every movement felt... clean. Strong. The air clung to his skin, thick with power, humming with gravity and weight.
