But I don’t wake up. This is real. This is happening. I just killed Daciana.
The horror should crash through me like a tidal wave, but it’s distant, muffled, like I’m feeling it through layers and layers of thick cotton. The numbness swallows most of it, leaving only a dull, throbbing ache where the full weight of what I’ve done should be.
My body doesn’t care. Doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even pause to look at what it has done.
Elara screams. The sound is raw, primal, filled with terror. She backs away, stumbling over her own feet, one hand still protectively on her stomach.
“Selene! What are you—”
The healer moves.
Fast. Faster than I would have expected from someone so young, so slight. She lunges past me, past Daciana’s body, and grabs Elara from behind. Her hand clamps over Elara’s mou
