Sarafina POV
Morning hurts.
Not in the dramatic or poetic way
In a very real, very cruel way where my skull felt too small for my brain and the air itself scraped when I inhaled.
I opened my eyes slowly.
The ceiling above me was not mine.
Stone. Pale. Veined faintly with something that shimmered when I blinked too hard.
The Arcanum.
Right.
The surge. The hunters. The collapse.
And then— Shit.
The memory of it flickered behind my eyes like lightning trapped in bone.
Power ripping through me.
Through them.
Through everything.
I sat up too quickly.
Instant regret.
A sharp pulse of pressure flared behind my temples—and then I heard it.
Not a voice. Not exactly. A murmur. I think.
Like someone speaking underwater.
I froze.
Silence.
Then
"unstable—"
My breath caught.
The word hadn't come from the doorway. Or the hall.
It had come from–Everywhere.
How is that possible?
I pressed my palms against my ears. It didn't help.
Another flicker.
"too fast—"
