IVY
I wake up not dead and that's the first surprise.
The second is that nothing hurts.
I sit up fast, heart pounding. My hands fly to my ribs expecting broken bones. Nothing. I check my feet. The cuts are gone. Just pale scars where deep gashes should be.
What happened.
The room around me is old stone. Cold. Empty except for the cot I'm lying on and some wooden crates stacked against the wall. Sunlight streams through a gap in the ceiling where the roof caved in years ago.
A man sits in the corner sharpening a silver blade.
My whole body goes tense. He's massive. Broad shoulders. Arms covered in scars. Black hair falls over his face as he works the blade across a whetstone. The scraping sound fills the silence.
He doesn't look at me. Hasn't looked up once since I woke.
But I feel his attention like a physical weight. Every muscle in his body is coiled tight. Ready to move. Ready to fight.
