A gasp escaped his throat as he shot upright, cold air rushing into his lungs like a drowning man gasping for breath above the surface of the sea.
"Lord Luther!"
His body shook for a moment, with feelings of heat and cold surging through his veins. His head throbbed as if two different sets of memories were clashing—each trying to take control.
Luther's golden eyes darted around the dimly lit infirmary, but in his mind, he wasn't in a stone-walled palace. No. This isn't right. This isn't where I'm supposed to be.
His hands gripped the bed tightly. He could still feel the intense, searing pain of teeth piercing his skin, the creature's claws ripping into him. Warm blood flowed from his body onto the ground in the forest.
But then—
A different death.
He was choking, with smoke filling his lungs.
A heavy weight pressed down on him, and his voice came out weak and gasping as he cried, "Your Majesty!" He threw himself in front of a man wearing royal robes.
And then—nothing.
