Days blurred together. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, and my throat ached with thirst. I drifted in and out of consciousness, the world around me shifting between fevered dreams and cold reality.
When I finally woke fully, I was wrapped in warmth. Soft sheets surrounded me, the scent of clean linen and burning wood filling the air.
"You're awake." The voice was deep, firm yet gentle.
I turned my head. The man from before—King Cyrus—sat beside the bed, watching me with careful eyes. He was younger than I had imagined a king to be, barely in his mid-thirties, yet there was a weight of experience in his gaze that made him seem older.
"You've been asleep for three days," he said. "We feared you wouldn't wake."
I tried to speak, but my throat was raw. He poured me a cup of water and held it to my lips. The cool liquid burned as it went down, but I drank greedily.
"Your town..." He hesitated. "Windmere is gone. You are the only survivor."
I had known it, of course. I had seen it with my own eyes. But hearing it spoken aloud made it real in a way I wasn't ready for. My fingers curled into the blankets, gripping them like they were the last thing tethering me to this world.
"What is your name?" Cyrus asked.
For a moment, I couldn't remember. Then, the answer came, fragile as a whisper.
"Lavina."
Cyrus nodded, as if committing it to memory. "Lavina. You are under my protection now. If you wish it, I will give you a place here, in my court. A life beyond what was taken from you."
I didn't hesitate. "Teach me how to fight."
Cyrus studied me for a long moment before he smiled.
"Very well."