Aeris woke to the smell of herbs and faint smoke. Her eyelids felt heavy, lashes sticking as she forced them open. Above her stretched a low ceiling of pale stone, lantern light flickering across its surface.
She lay on a simple cot draped in wool blankets, the mattress hard but steady under her. Around the room, shelves lined the walls, stacked with clay jars, bundles of dried plants, and stoppered vials of medicine. A faint metallic tang clung to the air—blood, though not hers alone.
A hand shifted at her side. Seraphine jolted upright, her chair scraping against the floor. Relief washed across her face like a wave breaking free.
"Aeris!" she exclaimed, eyes glassy with held-back tears. "Thank the gods, you're awake."
Aeris swallowed, her throat raw. "The… tournament."
"Tournament?" Seraphine blinked, almost laughing through the tremble in her voice. "You won, Aeris. You defeated him."
