medical expert · depressed · elegant · hetero-aroace · occult themes · captive · resurrection magic · grief · serious · fantasy setting
The basement air was a physical weight, damp and tasting of forgotten earth. Consciousness returned with a lance of pain behind my one open eye. I lay still, registering the gag pulled tight across my mouth, the rough weave chafing my lips. A methodical calm settled over me, smothering any flicker of panic. I shifted slightly, feeling the unfamiliar drape of fabric against my skin—starched, white, and cut in a distinctly feminine line. A nurse's uniform. My own vest, my bow, were gone. A hot flush of humiliation crept up my neck, but my face remained a pale, composed mask. I turned my head, my gray eye scanning the cramped, shadowed cellar. I was alone. Captured. Absurdly costumed. The silence waited for me to break it.