Hailey
I woke up with a jolt, my lungs pulling in air as though I hadn't breathed in days. Every sense was heightened—like the world around me had become painfully clear. The soft rustle of the sheets, the rustling wind outside the infirmary window, the faint scent of chamomile tea and dried blood—all of it hit me at once. I blinked, heart racing.
Something had changed.
I sat up, running my fingers across my arms, half-expecting to see wounds or bruises. But there was nothing. No pain. No scars. Just a strange surge of energy pulsing beneath my skin.
"Asher?" I called out, my voice still rough from sleep.
Silence answered me.
My heart dropped. I scanned the room—the empty chair beside the bed, the crumpled blanket at its edge, and the untouched cup of water on the nightstand. He had been here. But now he was gone.
A deep unease spread through me.
