Softness cradled her, an alien sensation against skin accustomed to cold stone and rough straw. Her eyelids fluttered, a heavy weight pulling them open to reveal a ceiling of smoothly carved rock. Warmth, a gentle, pervasive heat, seeped into her bones, chasing away the familiar chill of despair. Disoriented, Rayla blinked. Where was she? A fresh, earthy scent, laced with something floral and sweet, filled her lungs. Not the metallic tang of blood, not the stale stench of her prison. Her muscles tensed, a primal instinct flaring. Every fiber of her being screamed danger, a lifetime of abuse etched deep into her nervous system. She tried to push herself up, a groan escaping her lips as a sharp ache lanced through her ribs. Her head throbbed.

Chapter 2: Whispers of a Haven