POV: APHRODITE
Consciousness comes in fragments. Painful and incomplete.
I'm aware of voices first. Draco and Lucen arguing in terse, frightened tones. The words don't make sense yet. Just sounds washing over me like water.
Then touch. Someone's hand gripping mine. The pressure firm but not restraining. Anchoring me to something solid when everything else feels like I'm floating.
Then pain.
Not my pain. That would almost be easier to understand.
This is pain filtering through the bond. Doubled. Magnified. The twins' panic and guilt hitting me in waves that make my head spin even though I can't fully wake.
I try to surface toward consciousness, but exhaustion drags me back down. My body isn't ready. Hasn't recovered enough from days of secret starvation.
So I drift. Caught between waking and sleep. Aware enough to feel but not enough to respond.
