H..
Her heart thudded again. Harder.
A sharp breath surged into her lungs—and her eyes flew open.
She gasped.
The first thing she saw was stone above her. Jagged, rough, wet.
She sat up too quickly, coughing, retching water from her lungs, hands trembling.
"What—where—?"
Her voice cracked, hoarse and fragile.
She looked around wildly.
A cave. Dim. The sound of running water nearby. Faint morning light filtered through the cracks above.
Her hands flew to her body—searching for wounds, for ropes, for signs of pain.
But there was none.
"I—I'm alive?"
She looked down at her soaked robe, clinging tightly to her skin. Her fingers dug into the fabric, still too numb to fully believe it.
"Am I… in heaven?"
Her voice was soft, almost reverent.
"Did my good deed melt Heaven's heart?" she whispered to no one. "Did the gods take pity on me?"
A pause.
Then—
"You're not in heaven."
She froze.
A voice—low, smooth, masculine.
"You're not even dead."
