As Draven teetered on the precipice of unconsciousness, enveloped in the harrowing darkness, a distant voice pierced through the tumultuous haze. It was a voice that stirred a flicker of recognition deep within his fractured mind, a voice that called out to him with a haunting familiarity.
"Draven... Draven, wake up," the voice whispered, its gentle cadence cutting through the cacophony of his shattered memories.
With a jolt, Draven's eyes fluttered open, his breath catching in his chest. The dream that had held him captive, reliving the tragic nightmare that befell his family, began to dissipate like smoke in the wind. Slowly, the fragmented fragments of his consciousness reassembled, and he found himself returning to the present moment.
"Sarah," he muttered, his voice hoarse from exhaustion. "What... what happened? How did I...?"