Chapter 27 Esmeralda's Pov

• The sharp, musty scent of dried herbs and aged wood hits me as I wake, my body aching as though I’ve been run over by a freight train. My eyes flutter open, squinting against the dim light filtering through the shutters. The room is unfamiliar, simple, and rustic, with a small fireplace crackling in one corner and shelves lined with jars and vials of unknown contents.
• Despite its cozy state, panic surges through me, and I bolt upright, ignoring the sharp pain that shoots through my ribs. My breath comes in shallow gasps as my eyes dart around for an escape route. The windows are tightly shut, and the doors are locked. I don’t recognize this place, nor do I know who brought me here or why they did.
• The last thing I remember is the icy rush of the river, as the current dragged me under, and how I had desperately fought to stay afloat. And then… I remember nothing after.