Darkness came in layers.
Not all at once—but slowly, like something heavy being lowered over her face.
The first thing Holly became aware of was cold. Not the biting, clean cold of the mountain air she’d grown used to—but something damp, pressing in from all sides. Stone. Earth. The smell of iron and pine sap and blood long dried into wood.
Her body ached.
Every muscle felt wrong, like she’d been folded into herself and left that way too long. Her wrists burned—rope, she realized distantly. Not tight enough to cut circulation, but deliberate. Measured.
Korren.
The name surfaced with a rush of nausea.
Holly tried to move.
Her head swam immediately, a dull throb pulsing behind her eyes. She gasped and sucked in air that tasted stale and heavy, coughing as her lungs protested.
“Easy.
