Lorelei

Consciousness returned not as a gentle dawn, but as a slow, sinking realization into a nest of impossible softness. My fingers clenched, not in the rough, scratchy wool of my old blanket, but in fabric so fine it felt like cool water against my skin. The air was different too—not damp and earthy, but still and clean, smelling of sandalwood and something faintly metallic.

My eyes snapped open to near-total darkness. It took a moment for them to adjust, to pick out the shapes in the ...