Something cold dragged along the edges of Celia’s awareness, like water lapping against a paper-thin shore. Voices rippled in and out, too warped to understand. Her eyelids felt glued shut, but she forced them open a fraction. Nothing made sense at first. Her vision blurred, shapes bending and wobbling like reflection on rippled glass.
A weight tugged her shoulders downward. Her arms ached, Her wrists burned. Her head throbbed.
She blinked again. Harder.
The world slid into focus by degrees: a circle of trees, stark and skeletal, broken only by a wide, barren clearing. Faces came in and out of focus. Men and women. Warriors and townspeople. All forming a loose ring. Their expressions were tight and grim.
No one stepped forward to help her. They only stared.
Her chest tightened.
She
