Lumy stirred slowly, her eyelids fluttering as consciousness crept back. The first thing she registered was the gentle hum of the van's engine and the warmth of the afternoon sun filtering through the windows.
She blinked, disoriented, her gaze sweeping across the unfamiliar interior before landing on Andrey, who was driving with one hand on the wheel. His jacket was torn, dark ichor still staining his clothes, but his posture was relaxed.
"…Andrey?" Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Andrey glanced at her, a small, relieved smile tugging at his lips. "You're awake. Take it easy—you've been through a lot."
Lumy pushed herself up slowly, wincing as her muscles protested. She pressed a hand to her temple, trying to piece together the fragments of memory. The Terramaw. The darkness. Andrey's voice cutting through the chaos.
"The herb…" she said, her voice sharpening with urgency. "Did we—"
