Isabella's pov
The first thing I registered was the dull, insistent throb behind my eyes, a relentless metronome against the soft hum in the background.
Something cold brushed against my cheek.
My eyelids felt heavy, glued shut, but a persistent prickle of light fought its way through the darkness. Slowly, agonizingly, I forced them open.
A blurry shifting patterns of creamy whites and soft golds swam into focus. Not my familiar, slightly cluttered bedroom. Not even vaguely like it. This place... it was too pristine, too quiet. High ceilings stretched above me, adorned with intricate plasterwork that caught the light from an unseen window. The walls were panelled in what looked like polished mahogany, interrupted by sections of silken wallpaper in a subtle damask pattern. The sheets beneath me feelt impossibly soft, like spun cloud.
