Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
The sound was sharp, metallic, and entirely foreign. It possessed a precise, electronic cadence that did not exist anywhere in the ancient, magical expanse of the Beastworld. It wasn't the slow, heavy thud of a dire-wolf's heartbeat, nor was it the crackle of a hearth fire in the Iron-Wood Manor.
It was the sound of a terrestrial heart monitor.
Roxy's consciousness surfaced, dragging itself up through a suffocating ocean of heavy, chemical lethargy. Her transmigrated senses, usually hyper-attuned to the ambient magical currents of the Warlords, were completely blind. The air did not smell of crisp mountain pine, draconic ozone, or damp swamp earth.
It smelled sharply, aggressively, of industrial bleach, rubbing alcohol, and sterile latex.
Where am I? Roxy's mind sluggishly demanded. Is this the void? Is this what the hollowed soul experiences?
