Elara's POV
The candlelight against my eyes is raw and stings my eyes to consciousness. I open them, using my hand as a shield from the light.
The familiar scent of herbs in the room is intense. Velora must have used them—same way she did on the day I found myself on this bed.
"Elara, you are finally awake." Velora's voice is full of excitement, as though charged with the smell of herbs in the room.
My head feels stuck to the bed as it's hard for me to raise myself off it. I manage to do so, but not without applying much effort. The bedsheet, the spot I'm lying on—it's stained with blood, my own blood.
I knew I bled, but I didn't know I lost this much blood. It's no wonder that my body had refused to yield to my commands.
My eyes spot the table beside the bed, and I find scissors, cotton wool, bandages, and a bluish substance sealed in a small jar. My attention goes to my wrists. I feel stuff. When I raise my hands to look, I get the hint.
