Holly expected to wake up in pain.
That, at least, would have made sense.
Instead, she woke with her heart pounding and her body… quiet.
Too quiet.
She lay still for several long seconds, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, waiting for the nausea to slam back into her, for the burning in her veins to flare again. It didn’t. Her stomach felt hollow but steady. Her head clear. Her muscles tense with something that felt uncomfortably close to readiness.
She swallowed, suddenly aware of how sharply she could hear the wind outside—how every sound seemed layered, distinct. Snow brushing stone. Fabric shifting somewhere beyond the door. A distant footstep, measured and unhurried.
Korren.
Her pulse jumped, but she didn’t move.
The door opened moments later, confirming what she already knew.
