"Ugh…" I groaned. A sharp, dull ache rippled through my skull, making me grimace.
For a moment, I just sat there, eyes squeezed shut, as fragments of that dream clawed at the back of my mind.
Strange and wrong.
It hadn't felt like a normal dream—it had been too vivid, too heavy, like someone else's memory pressing against my own.
Amael's memory.
At least, that's what I thought.
But it didn't line up.
Amael was the one who had first met Lisandra and Sylvia—I remembered that much. So why had this encounter felt… different?
Like it was happening to me, not him.
The more these memories surfaced, the more uneasy I became. If they weren't Amael's, then whose were they? And if I kept receiving fragments from lives that weren't mine, how long before I stopped being me altogether? How long before I broke?
I rubbed my face with both hands and let out a tired yawn, glancing to my side.
