Rain's POV
When my eyes snapped open, the first thing I felt was cold.
Not the kind that kisses your skin on a winter morning. No—this was older, crueler. A cold that slithered straight into my bones, rooted itself in my marrow, and claimed me.
I lay on the floor, stone hard and damp beneath me. My breath fogged in the air, and each inhale scraped against my lungs like broken glass.
How long had I been out? Minutes? Hours? Days?
I had no idea.
The air reeked of rot and burnt incense. It pressed heavy on my chest, thick and choking, as though the room itself wanted me dead.
I tried to sit up, but my body screamed in protest. Pain ripped through me, sharp and deep—like I'd been thrown beneath a moving truck and then dragged for miles. But it wasn't just flesh and bone pain. This was… wrong. It felt heavy, unnatural. Like something inside me had been ripped open and stitched back together with poison.
Blinking through the haze, I forced my eyes to focus.
