Serenya's POV
The scent hits me first—smoke, herbs, something faintly sweet, like crushed mint left too long in the sun.
My eyes flutter open to dim lamplight and a ceiling so close I could touch it if I lifted my hand. Wood planks, uneven and splintered. Not my apartment. Not the woods either.
For a few heartbeats, I just lie there. Listening. Breathing. Waiting for something to move, for someone to appear. My body feels heavy, my head full of static. I take inventory: arms, legs, ribs, neck. No pain—only that dull, dizzy pulse that comes after too much adrenaline. I’m alive. But where am I?
I push myself upright. The cot groans beneath me, its thin mattress rustling against my movement. Coarse sheets scratch my skin, and the faint chill of the air makes me shiver. My hair clings dam
