The next time I open my eyes, it’s in the warehouse.

My head throbs as I sit up on the bed, my shoulders aching and my waists breathing.

The pain all round my body feels nearly unbearable, and it’s worse when my sight seems bad too—I can only make out a couple of blurry figures clustered together across the room.

“Zeath?” I call, and the figures move. I think they turn to me.

“Mellow, you’re awake,” I hear Zeath’s voice as one tall figure supposedly belonging to him starts ...