Page 34

thirty-four

Dove

W aking from a fitful slumber, my body springs forward.

Looking around, I see nothing but a cosy, toasty room decorated with woven tapestries of landscapes similar to Haven.

Flopping back down, I rub my hands over my face and groan. Something feels off.

I feel like I have slept for a millennium, but in the same breath, I have had no rest at all.

The sheets underneath me are the most luxurious I’ve ever slept on, yet my mind is foggy, and my muscles have found no reprieve from their constant ache.

Beyond the battle with my lack of strength lies a strange niggle.

A sting that makes itself known, a strange feeling within the cavity of my heart, deeper than usual.

Gripping my chest, the niggle turns into a full-on gnaw, followed by a gnash, and I can’t hold it in anymore.

My body spasms on the bed, and I scream.

Ears ringing, throat raw, chest splitting. I find the only thing I can grasp onto—the darkness…