Adrian's POV
I am falling, not the fast and furious type, because I felt no wind, I could not scream, and there was no dramatic plunge. It is the slow kind, the kind where gravity forgets you exist and you drift through yourself instead.
There is light, then there isn't. Like being weightless in the dark cosmos.
Then there is Elena's voice, but it's wrong, because it's either too close or too far away. Like someone speaking through water.
"Adrian."
My name fractures into pieces. A-dri-an. Each syllable lands somewhere different in my body.
I try to answer.
Nothing moves.
Panic should come next. It doesn't. Panic requires a future, and I don't seem to have one of those right now.
Instead, memories begin leaking.
I am nine years old again.
The training room smells like antiseptic and ozone. My hands were bleeding because I didn't realize I was clenching them. Quinn kneels before me, his face calm. "Breathe," he says.
"I don't want to see it," I whisper.
