The scent of herbs filled the air as Soren blinked into consciousness, his body aching with every breath. It was daytime, but heaviness settled in his bones, making it feel like night. He didn’t know where he was or how he got here—only fragmented images danced in his mind: dark creatures, claws, fangs, pain, and a name that slipped through his fingers like water.

He stirred, focusing on a woman tending a nearby table. She moved with quiet grace, grinding herbs into a paste. Though he couldn’t place her, something about her calmed the storm inside him.

“Where am I?” Soren croaked, his voice rough and unfamiliar.

Safe felt foreign. He had been running, but from what? The memories twisted within him like shadows. Someone was missing, and he needed to find them.

…her.