Ashley Martin woke to the sound of scratching quills and hushed voices discussing her like she was a particularly interesting corpse.
The room was white. Not the comforting white of fresh snow or clean linens, but the sterile white of bone bleached by desert sun. Every surface gleamed with volcanic glass polished to mirror brightness, reflecting the golden flames that danced in crystal sconces along the walls. The bed beneath her felt more like an examination table than a place of rest.
"The fracture patterns suggest a recursive feedback loop," said a voice to her left. "Most fascinating. I've never seen a Covenant attempt to process multiple simultaneous deaths."
Ashley's eyes snapped open, finding three figures in cream-colored robes standing beside her bed. Their faces held the clinical interest of scholars examining a rare manuscript, not healers tending to a patient.
"Ah, you're conscious," the eldest said. "Excellent. We have questions about your Covenant manifestation."
