River stirred, her mind clawing its way out of a thick fog of unconsciousness. Her limbs were heavy, her body oddly warm, as though she had been sleeping beneath the sun for days.
Her lashes fluttered open, revealing a high stone ceiling above her, unfamiliar yet oddly comforting. For a heartbeat, she simply lay there, confused, staring at the play of light on the curved walls.
Then it all came rushing back.
The pain.
The fire.
The scream that tore her in half.
The dungeon.
The ritual.
Her hand flew to her chest, as though trying to feel the memory itself embedded in her skin. But there was no burn, no searing agony. Just a strange warmth beneath the surface, humming gently like a heartbeat.
And then—her name.
“Tempest…” River whispered, hesitant, almost afraid to speak it alou
