Josie
Thorne's voice still echoed in my head long after everything around me went silent. It wasn't just a whisper anymore—it was something deeper, heavier, like the kind of sound that fills your chest and steals your breath away. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt something stir inside me. Hope. But it was faint—fragile, like smoke trying to take shape.
Then, in a blink, everything changed.
The air shifted. My surroundings blurred into white nothingness. The heat, the pain, even the sound of my heartbeat—all of it faded until I felt weightless. When I turned around, there was no bed, no room, no voices. Just a wide, endless field of mist and light. I couldn't tell where the ground ended or the sky began.
A tap on my shoulder made me spin so fast I almost lost balance.
And then—I froze.
"Thorne?" I whispered.
