Laying in the soft, warm embrace of the cabin's bed, Serah stirred as golden sunlight poured through the wooden shutters and danced across her face. She groaned lightly, her lashes fluttering before her eyes finally opened, adjusting to the morning glow. Slowly, reality began to settle in, and she recognized the familiar space—the wooden beams, the faint crackle of the hearth, the clean, pine-scented air. She was back in Marcus's cabin.
With a soft grunt, she forced herself upright, sitting on the side of the bed. The motion made her temples throb faintly, a reminder of the battle etched into her memory. Images of blood-forged weapons, spikes tearing through the earth, and her clash with the Purebloods came rushing back in a heavy wave.
"I guess I pushed myself too far in the Phoenix state," she muttered, rubbing at her tired eyes with the heel of her palm. Her voice carried a mixture of weariness and annoyance, like she was scolding herself for surviving so recklessly.
