Serena bolted upright with a sharp gasp.
She was drenched in a cold sweat. Her lungs burned and pain lanced through her side. She clutched at it instinctively, fingers pressing into the tight bandages wrapped around her ribs.
She scanned the room, heart hammering.
The stone walls were draped in rich fabric. The wide bed beneath her held silk sheets, and the furniture was beautiful and expensive.
The room reminded her of another time in her life, and something sharp and unwanted stirred in her chest.
A tear slipped free.
She shook her head once and cut the thought off.
She looked down at her wrists. No silver cuffs.
But that didn't mean safe.
She dragged in one careful breath.
Elara.
Her name cut through the haze.
Panic flared, hot and immediate.
Serena swung her legs off the bed. Her boots hit the floor before her balance caught up. The room tilted hard and nausea surged, but she clenched her jaw and stayed upright.
She moved, ignoring her insides screaming in protest.
Each step pulled at her side, sharp and wet, but she crossed the room anyway and reached the door. She cracked it open just enough to slip through.
The corridor beyond was empty.
Then something strange coiled low in her core. Déjà vu cut sharp, strong enough to make her falter for half a step. It felt wrong, like a memory trying and failing to claw its way to the surface. One that did not belong to her.
The sensation tightened, then vanished.
Serena drew in a breath and kept moving. Stopping was not an option.
"Who goes there?" a voice called out just as shadow stretched across the stone ahead of her.
Her blood went cold.
Fight-or-flight instinct took over and she took off at a full sprint.
She veered hard and slipped into the hidden tunnel behind a tapestry. She held her breath as armored boots thundered past.
She did not stop to think about direction.
Somehow, she already knew it.
Her feet chose turns before her mind caught up, carrying her through narrow stone passages that felt older than the keep above them.
The pace should not have been possible. She was injured. She was lightheaded. But she did not slow.
She tripped and stone scraped her palms. Pain tore through her side. She took a calming breath and continued.
Finally, cold air hit her face.
She burst out of the passage and bolted straight towards the treeline.
Her lungs burned, and blood spotted the ground behind her where the wound had pulled open again.
She kept that pace until she was well into the forest.
Elara was alive. She had to be.
Serena clung to that certainty as she ran, because if she let go of it for even a second, she would fall.