Her lashes quivered.
Just a tremor at first, so slight it might have been mistaken for the play of light across her face.
Then, her breathing hitched, uneven, as though her body stirred before her mind could follow.
A faint twitch passed through her fingers, restless, searching, and the calm of her stillness unraveled.
In the next breath, her eyelids fluttered open with abrupt force—a sharp gasp broke the silence as she woke up. Not gently, but violently, like a soul yanked back—into flesh, dragged from depths it had no wish to leave.
Leandra looked around; her chest heaved up and down in heavy breaths, and sweat trickled down her back.
She found herself in a sterile room of white and steel.
"Where am I…?"
Holding her head with a hand, she looked down at the blanket covering her and tried to remember what had happened. An ache assaulted her mind as she tried to surface the memories from that night, but even so, she managed to remember.
"Right… Lucivar stabbed me."
