Pain.
That was the first thing Elysia felt.
A dull, relentless throb pounded in her skull, spreading like ripples through her body, each pulse sharper than the last.
Her limbs were stiff, aching in ways that told her she'd been in this position for far too long.
When she finally forced her eyes open, the dim, flickering light above her sent another spike of pain straight into her head.
Her vision blurred before coming into focus, revealing a place—if it could even be called that.
The room was in a state of absolute decay. The stone walls were cracked and damp, stained with patches of dark mold.
The wooden beams above her head were rotting, water seeping through in slow, steady drips that pooled in murky puddles on the dirt-covered floor.
The air was thick, damp, wrong—a mixture of mildew, rust, and something else. Something metallic.
Blood.
