Aire blinked slowly. She blinked once to regain consciousness, then again to adjust her eyes to the light.
Then finally, her eyes parted.
Light greeted her first, soft, golden, and familiar.
Her gaze drifted upward, unfocused at first, before the shapes above her slowly sharpened into something she recognized.
She saw the ceiling, and the faint cracks she had memorized without realizing.
Her room.
Aire's breath hitched.
She was back.
Her lashes fluttered again as her mind scrambled to catch up.
The war.
The blood.
The screams.
Her body tensed. She tried to move, but Ince again, she couldn't. A sharp pulse of fear shot through her chest.
Her eyes widened instantly.
Her breathing picked up, uneven and shallow as panic crept in.
Not again.
She doesn't want to be in that place again.
Her fingers twitched. Or at least—she tried to make them twitch.
Her body felt… restrained, and heavy.
Aire's chest rose sharply as she forced her hand to move. Wasn't she back to reality?
