Nevara
My eyes opened to a blur of muted browns and flickering light.
Everything was spinning.
My head throbbed—sharp and slow, like something was pulsing behind my right eye, trying to claw its way out. My hand drifted up instinctively and touched something wet and crusted just above my temple. I winced.
A gash.
Not healing.
The second my fingers brushed it, the pain flared brighter, blinding me. I groaned and let my hand fall, my vision finally sharpening enough to take in the space around me.
A cabin.
One room. Wooden walls, knotty pine floors, and the acrid scent of firewood just barely masking something… sour underneath. A couch sat across from a fireplace, where embers glowed low. A small table was pushed against the far wall beside a kitchenette—a wood-burning stove, a sink,
