Misty

It’s morning. Early morning–still too early for the sun to breach the mountains and send light spilling over the village of Silverhide.

I roll over on the couch, wrapped in a thick blanket, and stare at the dying embers in the stone fireplace across the room.

I haven’t slept. Pain echoes through my body, settling deep in my bones. It’s not a sharp, bright pain. It’s the kind that aches and throbs–a dull thrum of noise that makes it impossible to focus, let alone close my eyes and rest.

I feel empty. Empty, and alone.

‘Why did you do this to me?’ I ask through the sliver of bond...