Elara’s POV
The cold seeps into my bones first. That’s what pulls me from the darkness—this bitter, gnawing chill that makes my teeth chatter before I’m even fully conscious. My head throbs with a dull, persistent ache that pulses behind my eyes with each heartbeat.
Where am I?
The thought comes sluggishly, like swimming through thick honey. Everything feels wrong. The surface beneath me is a hard, unforgiving stone. The air tastes stale and musty, carrying the metallic tang of old blood and something else I can’t identify.
My eyes flutter open to complete darkness.
No, not complete darkness. There’s a thin shaft of pale light filtering through what looks like iron bars across the room. Prison bars.
I try to remember what happened, but my memories are hazy, fragmented. I was in my in
