Aurora's first conscious breath tasted of salt and damp earth. Her eyelids fluttered against a bright, unfamiliar ceiling. She blinked, throat tight, and tried to swallow past a parched mouth. A high-pitched hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Where—?
She attempted to push herself up, and pain lanced through her ribs. A heavy bandage wrapped her torso; gauze pressed against her side. Her vision swam. Panic surged. She realized she couldn't recall the last clear memory—only flashes of fire, smoke, and a metal grate closing above her.
A door hissed. A young nurse in pale scrubs stepped inside, clipboard in hand. “Good, you're awake," the nurse said, voice gentle but firm. “Easy now—just lie back."
Aurora's heart hammered. “Where… where am I?" Her voice was brittle.
The nurse's lip
