The world returned in pieces.
First came the cold—sharp, biting, crawling up Amaya's spine like frost made of needles. Then came the ringing in her ears, long and thin, as if someone were dragging a blade across glass. And finally, the darkness that had wrapped around her mind like a cage began to crack.
A single sound pulled her fully awake.
"Amaya."
Leo's voice.
But it wasn't the calm, steady tone she was used to.
This voice was raw—tight—half-shaken, half-furious, completely desperate.
Her vision was still nothing but white haze, but she felt the warmth of his palm on her cheek. He was kneeling beside her, one hand behind her back, holding her up as if she were made of something fragile.
She blinked once.
Then again.
The haze split apart like torn curtains and light rushed in.
Golden light.
Her own.
