Waking up was pure agony.

Mauve’s body screamed with pain as she slowly regained consciousness. Her head throbbed as though someone had driven nails into her skull. Every inch of her felt sore, as if she’d been dragged through gravel. She opened her eyes, only to be greeted by suffocating darkness. Her throat was parched, her lips cracked and dry. She tried to move, but her limbs felt like lead.

The air was damp and heavy, carrying a faint metallic tang of rust and something else—something foul and decaying. Her hands groped blindly, brushing against rough stone walls. She was on a cold, hard floor, the texture beneath her fingers...