Zyra POV
The first thing I notice is the silence.
Not the hollow, echoing silence of the game arena. Not the heavy, predatory quiet that presses into your ears and waits for you to make a mistake.
This silence is… controlled.
Warm.
It makes my skin prickle.
My eyelids feel heavy, like they’ve been stitched shut with exhaustion. When I finally force them open, light filters in softly, dim, golden, nothing harsh. The ceiling above me isn’t stone. No cracks. No blood. No flickering torches. My breath stutters.
This isn’t the arena.
I try to move, panic rising instantly, but my body protests, sharp pain blooms along my side and shoulder, dragging a breath from my lungs. I hiss softly, fingers curling into the sheets beneath me.
Sheets, that alone makes my heart race.
I turn my head s
