Maggie's POV
The flap of the tent snapped like a gunshot. Then, nothing. Silence returned, but it was no longer the same. Before, it had been heavy with presence, with watchfulness. Now, it was vast, empty, and glacial.
Maggie was alone.
The echo of Élisa's words broke against the canvas walls, shattering into sharp fragments that pierced her mind.
"Selfish. Hollowed out. Broken."
Her body was a prison of pain and immobility. She couldn't turn her head to escape the vacant stare of the candle flame. Couldn't clench her fists to contain the storm raging within. She was nailed to that straw mat, served up to her own demons.
