EVELARA
I slipped down the hallway, footsteps silent against the polished marble floor. The hospital's royal wing was eerily empty, just the hum of machines and the faint scent of antiseptic in the air.
Every step was like an echo in my chest. The elevator was too risky, so I took the side stairwell, which was also mostly empty— the one healers and cleaners used during emergencies. It opened into the courtyard beside the main building.
I grabbed a mask and a cap, put them on, and kept my head down.
The moment the sunlight hit my face, I almost forgot to breathe. The air outside was sharp and clean. “Finally.” I muttered, freedom scented with pine and morning dew to me, even though it was afternoon it felt like the first step of morning.
For a moment, I almost smiled.
I
