(Rosaline POV)
The first thing I felt was pain.
Not sharp—not screaming—but deep, pervasive, and exhausting. The kind of pain that seeps into your bones and makes even breathing feel like work.
I tried to inhale.
My chest protested immediately.
A soft sound escaped me before I could stop it.
"—Rose."
A voice followed, distant and careful.
I opened my eyes slowly.
Light filtered in through tall windows draped in pale silk curtains, the kind only found in noble estates. The ceiling above me was familiar—carved stone in the De Falon style, inlaid with subtle patterns meant to ward illness and bad dreams.
I was home.
That realization came with relief.
Then confusion.
Then—absence.
My fingers twitched against the bed linen, searching instinctively.
Vlad.
The name surfaced before thought did, a reflex etched too deeply into my heart to be silenced by reason. I turned my head weakly, eyes scanning the room despite the way dizziness threatened to swallow me whole.
