—Natasha's POV—
Natasha awoke not to consciousness, but to a profound and alien stillness.
For weeks, her existence had been defined by a cacophonous symphony of pain. The jagged, unhealed bond to Zane was a constant, screaming feedback loop in her soul, a psychic shard that grated with every breath, every heartbeat.
The world was a barrage of amplified senses—the deafening rustle of leaves, the blinding minutiae of dust motes in a sunbeam, the oppressive weight of unspoken emotions from everyone around her. Sleep offered no respite, only fractured dreams where lightning had the color of amber eyes and the wind carried the taste of desperate want.
This awakening was different. It was not an emergence from chaos, but a surfacing into a clear, cold, and silent sea.
She opened her eyes.
