ZINA
Zina understood the seriousness of her situation when she began to notice the little things. Like how the climate in the west was gloomy and without the usual cold.
It was already winter in the North, but there, all that greeted her was a strange coldness. Like someone familiar and warm was turning its back away from her.
The night of her capture, she was knocked out when she wouldn't stop screaming, and when she woke up, she was enveloped in a strange scent.
An incense that was unfamiliar and played dirty games with her mind.
Not the strange combination of the smell of pine, mint, and dark wood that Daemon always possessed. Not his warm hugs hugging her from behind. Not his dirty smirk, welcoming her to another day.
No. It was just a hollow bed that echoed an emptiness so vast it touched at her bones. An aching heart that refused to be heal, and a wandering mind that stewed in despair.
