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>>Ariston

I woke up to the distinct ache of phantom pain rippling through my body. My head throbbed as if someone had taken a hammer to it, and the dull, radiating soreness made me groan as I tried to shift. Every muscle protested as I moved, and the memory of being crushed flooded back like a cruel nightmare.

"Careful!" a voice came, sharp but not unkind. I felt hands on me, steadying me as I attempted to sit up.

I didn't bother looking at who it was, too dazed to care, and let them help me upright. My throat was dry, like I'd swallowed an entire desert. "Water," I rasped, my voice hoarse and barely audible.

The other guy—whoever he was—immediately moved to the table. I heard the faint clink of a jug being lifted, followed by the sound of liquid pouring into a glass.