Lila
I wake to silence.
Not the peaceful kind — the kind that presses in on your ears until you’re aware of your own heartbeat. Until you can hear the faint rush of blood behind your eyes and the shallow hitch in your breath.
For a moment, I don’t move.
I don’t even breathe properly.
Because something is wrong.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Awareness.
It hums beneath my skin, low and steady, like a second pulse layered under my own. It’s patient. Watching. Waiting.
I force myself upright with a sharp inhale, my hand flying to my chest as if I expect to feel fire or blood or something broken beneath my ribs.
Nothing.
My heart beats strong.
My lungs work.
My body feels… intact.
The room swims into focus.
Wooden beams.
Soft amber lamplight.
Bundles of herbs hanging from the ceiling, p
