_Lyla’s POV_
I woke to the soft hum of machines and the sterile scent of antiseptic. My eyelids fluttered open slowly, heavy as if weighed down by the entire night. Pale sunlight filtered through beige curtains, casting golden stripes across the hospital room's clean white walls. The bed beneath me was firm. There was a thin blanket draped over my waist. My limbs felt weak as if my strength had been drained and left out under the sun to dry.
The beeping beside me was steady. It was a gentle reminder that I was still alive. Still breathing.
I blinked, trying to gather my bearings.
Where was I?
The last thing I remembered was the battlefield, the blinding energy that tore through my soul, the fear in Dorian’s voice, and the sharp tug of exhaustion that had yanked me into the dark.
Now,
