"Ugh..."
My head felt like someone was using a hammer on my skull. Every time I breathed, the room seemed to tilt. My stomach was doing somersaults, and my joints felt like they had been filled with lead. This wasn't just a hangover; it felt like I was dying.
I was shivering under the blankets, trying to hide from the light, when the door creaked open. Elara walked in, carrying a small tray.
"How are you feeling?" she asked. Her voice was too clear, too steady for how loud my head was thumping.
"...I think I'm actually dying," I croaked. My throat felt like I had swallowed a handful of dry sand.
I curled into a tighter ball, covering my eyes. I told her today might as well be my funeral. Elara didn't say anything, but I felt the bed dip as she sat down beside me. Her hands, firm and warm, reached out and began to massage the back of my neck. She kneaded the tight muscles at the base of my skull, and slowly, the pounding in my head started to fade into a dull hum.
