Opal's POV
She was floating.
Or maybe falling.
Time didn't exist here. There was no sky. No floor. No walls. Just drifting weightless through a sea of fractured thoughts and memories that slipped through her fingers like water.
The world was soft—muted—and everything felt like a dream. A dream that shifted every second. Sometimes, she felt like she was in her childhood bedroom, curled under her covers while rain tapped against the windows. Other times, she was in a void so black and vast, it swallowed her whole.
Voices drifted in and out, sometimes warm, sometimes sharp, sometimes wrapped in shadows. One second she felt heat like the sun warming her skin, and the next, she was submerged in ice that bit into her lungs.
Then—
A voice. Familiar. Choked with something heavy.
"…her breathing is steady, but why isn't she waking up?"
Ash.
Opal wanted to answer him. Wanted to reach out. But her body was somewhere else, too heavy to move, too distant to command.
