Meredith.
I woke slowly, the weight of the thick duvet cocooning me in warmth. My head throbbed faintly, but it was the dryness in my throat and the heaviness in my limbs that struck me first.
The memories came flooding in like the water had only just receded—Xamira's small hand on my shoulder, the sudden plunge, the panic clawing through my lungs. The blue. The silence. The stillness.
And then—him.
Draven.
I blinked slowly and turned my head. The lighting in the room was soft. The curtains had been drawn mostly closed, and a gentle breeze crept in through the small opening. I saw Kira seated nearby, a hand resting over a book that she wasn't reading.
She looked up, startled when she noticed my eyes open.
"My lady!" she exclaimed, already halfway out of her chair. "You're awake."
"Barely," I croaked.
She helped me sit up slightly and reached for the warm mug on the side table. "Here. Warm milk. Azul said you should sip slowly."
"Azul…" My voice cracked.
