Rosalia — POV
It felt as though my soul was dragged through fire—ripped apart, then stitched back together again, over and over.
The agony was so intense that my vision turned pure white, my ears ringing as if I were standing at the center of a merciless explosion.
I had only placed my hand on him for a few seconds. Only seconds.
And yet the pain carved itself deep into my very existence, branding me with its heat, etching itself into my bones and nerves as if it intended to remain forever.
Every breath scraped my lungs raw.
Every heartbeat felt too loud, too violent, as though my body were protesting my stubborn refusal to let go.
But it was fine.
Wasn't it?
Hadn't I felt this kind of pain before, in countless different forms, wearing countless different faces?
Compared to everything I had endured before coming here… this was nothing.
