I woke up face-down on the cold, dusty floor.
I heard groaning, and thankfully, Rina Wenswood was right next to me, safe and sound.
For a second, I thought I was still dreaming, because the digital world as I knew it was no different from the fake world created by the Eastern Blue-Winged Butterfly.
The tower appeared again as I picked up my torch on the floor; already extinguished and require a kindle, sound came back, and my lungs remembered how to breathe again.
A dull ringing filled my ears, and when I sat up, Rina started groaning too.
She woke up.
Her hair was a mess, golden strands sticking to her face as she blinked in confusion. We were still in Worsetingale's tower, second floor, the one with the old bed and the heavy curtains, presumably right where we killed the goat.
"...You okay?" I croaked, my voice hoarse like I'd been screaming. "Are you the real Rina?"
