Darkness clung to Cornelia like thick water.
It pressed against her thoughts, against whatever part of her still knew how to be afraid, how to remember, how to be herself. She could not tell how long she had been floating there.
There was no sense of time, no sense of direction. Only an endless hollow where even pain felt distant, muted, like it belonged to someone else.
The first thing she noticed was thirst.
It was not a gentle dryness in her throat. It was a deep, aching emptiness that felt carved into her chest, as if something vital had been scooped out and left raw. Her lips felt cracked. Her tongue felt heavy. Every attempt to swallow brought nothing but a sharp reminder that she needed something, desperately, violently.
Her body reacted before her mind did.
A single finger twitched.
