*Akin*

There is no time here. Not really. It stretches and twists and folds in on itself like smoke curling in the wind, and I’ve long stopped trying to measure it. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, only that my muscles have forgotten movement and my mind has frayed at the edges more times than I can count.

Sometimes I hear my own heartbeat. Sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I remember the feeling of a sword in my hand, the warmth of Maerilee’s breath against my neck, the solid weight of River’s shoulder brushing mine in battle. Sometimes I think they are figments of my imagination, people who never...