The air smelled faintly of flowers and freshly fallen leaves. There was a pulse in the atmosphere of pure magic. A lively beat that vibrated through the walls and floor like a pulsating heart of warmth, which enveloped her body, leaving her spirit calm.
Irelia suddenly opened her eyes.
Her chest was heaving. She gasped, like someone gasping for air after nearly drowning, her eyes quickly scanning the ceiling adorned with golden threads of living energy, ribs that moved smoothly across the stones like veins of light. The room wasn't dark, but it wasn't lit in the normal way either. It was as if the light itself was... breathable.
"Where..." she murmured, but her voice came out low, hoarse, as if she had been shouting for days.
She sat up suddenly, the instinct to defend herself taking over. Her hands were shaking, her eyes wide. The last memories were fragments of pain... cold claws, tight bonds, the sensation of being torn apart from the inside out by magic out of control.
