Waking up felt… wrong.
Not bad wrong. Not "your organs are in the wrong order" wrong. Just… suspiciously right. Like my body had made a few executive decisions while I was unconscious and cleaned house without consulting me.
There was no pain. That was the first red flag. The last thing I remembered was Carmilla's blood spear punching through my chest like it was auditioning for a role as a professional hole-maker. My muscles should have felt like they'd been through a blender, set to puree, then poured back into my skin. There should have been a stabbing ache in my ribs, a burning tightness in my lungs, the lingering echo of corruption eating through my veins.
Instead? Warmth. Comfortable, encompassing, almost smug warmth—as if my body was particularly pleased with its new arrangements.
'Finally awake?' Luna's voice sounded in my mind, uncharacteristically gentle. 'You had us worried, breakthrough boy.'
