Zixuan's fingers twitched as they brushed against the cold, unyielding surface beneath her. The floor was smooth, polished—too polished—reflecting the dim glow of an unseen light source.
A slow, dull throbbing pulsed in her skull, radiating from the base of her neck, as though her entire head had been rattled by something unseen.
She inhaled shakily. The air was stale, carrying a faint scent of dust and something else—something metallic. Blood? No, it was fainter than that. More like rust.
Right! Another one?!
Her vision was nothing but darkness at first. Then, slowly, it began to blur, as if she were underwater, struggling to focus. Shadows swirled at the edges of her sight, shifting and bending in ways that didn't seem natural. She blinked once. Twice.
Shapes began to take form. Faint outlines sharpened into recognizable objects—a table, a chair, a white board.
