A few hours later, Celest woke up.
For the first time in years, waking did not feel like climbing out of a grave.
There was no crushing weight on her chest. No fog clinging to her thoughts. No endless pull dragging her back down before her eyes could focus. Her body felt weak, yes, and her limbs trembled when she tried to move them, but it was the weakness of someone who had slept too long and not the hollow exhaustion of a curse eating through the shape of her days.
She blinked slowly at the ceiling.
The room was not hers.
That was the first thing she noticed.
