CYRILLA'S POV
I expected to wake up to the cold, damp floor of the dungeon, the ache in my bones a harsh reminder of captivity. But instead, my back sank into something soft. I felt that familiar warmth, the embrace I knew all too well, and the scent that always put me at ease. For a moment, I thought I must be dreaming, or maybe the drugs they injected me with were still messing with my head. But as I moved to stretch, arms pulled me closer, grounding me in the present.
I slowly opened my eyes, scared that any sudden movement would shatter the illusion, and I’d be back in that nightmare of a dungeon. But instead of stone walls and iron bars, I found myself in a room I didn’t recognize. Rich, dark wooden beams ran across the ceiling, and tapestries of intricate patterns adorned the walls
