[Rogan's Apartment]
Lyra woke before her alarm.
She was staring at the ceiling with a dull ache threaded through her bones.
For a moment, she didn't move. Her body felt heavy, like she hadn't slept at all. Her limbs ached in a way she couldn't place, not soreness, not pain, just exhaustion that sat too deep to shake off.
She swallowed and winced.
Her throat was dry and her chest felt tight, as if she had been breathing shallowly all night.
Lyra pushed herself upright slowly and the room tilted.
She sat there until it steadied, fingers gripping the edge of the mattress.
"What is wrong with me?" she murmured.
When she stood, her knees protested faintly. She crossed the room and caught her reflection in the mirror without meaning to.
She barely recognized herself.
Her skin looked pale, almost washed out and there was a faint shadow beneath her eyes that hadn't been there before. Her lips were dry, her hair tangled more than usual, like she had been restless in her sleep.
