The soft warmth of sunlight streamed gently through the clinic's sheer curtains, casting pale gold patterns across the bed sheets.
The faint scent of herbs and healing ointments lingered in the air, mingling with the sterile chill that always clung to rooms where life and death had once wrestled.
Livia's eyelashes fluttered.
A dull ache pulsed behind her temples, and her body felt like it was made of lead — heavy, exhausted, and weak. For a moment, she lay still, listening to the faint rustle of leaves outside, the distant calls of pack members beginning their day, and the steady thump of her own heartbeat.
Then, with a slow, shaky breath, she forced her eyes open.
The world swam into view — the familiar ceiling of the Blood Moon Pack's healing wing, the faint hum of magic that still lingered in the air, the lingering traces of someone's presence beside her bed. Confusion furrowed her brow.
Where am I? What happened?
