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The first thought when she woke up was that the air was. . . smoother. Fresher. Her lungs didn't ache where she was, but the air had a certain aroma to it, almost thick like smog.
Inhaling deeply, she blinked blearily until her eyes opened. She had not rested so easily in such a long time. This would certainly be something to tell Ezra; he loved hearing about her bouts of sleep as no one down here slumbered.
But it was not the gray air of her eternity that greeted her. Sheets wrapped around her hands, soft and warm from the temperature of. . . her?
Was this. . .
She gasped, and it all came back, trickling into her mind the way a waterfall crashed onto rocks. The questions, Ezra's happiness, his one request from her before he put her to sleep.
Waking up in a forest of green, grass tickling her feet, kissing her hands. She remembered walking, searching for something similar, something that she could recall from before.
Finding a house--the house--that she created so many memories in. A house built of glass and wood, clear as day as it showed the impurities, the beauties of everyone who lived there.
A blanket around her shoulder. Cool, pale faces staring at her.
A warm baritone.
Sam.
Then, nothing.
She curled the sheets around her wrists, clenching them so hard her hands ached. The sheets were pale and creamy, silky underneath her. She felt them with shaky hands, taking in another trembling breath, the action making her pause.
For the second time, she tried to hold her breath again because certainly there was no way she needed it. She has and always would be a vampire, a creature of the night. She did not need to breathe. She did not need anything except blood.
But her head started to pound the longer she kept it up, and it felt like there was blood—blood—pooling around her brain, drumming against her head. She inhaled deeply, her trembling hands coming to wipe the tears off her face, unaware of if they were from relief or shock. Fear.
"Sage?!"
Sage jumped, momentarily surprised, another gasp echoing out of her. Her head jerked to the left, right by the window, where a chair sat, Seth's hands bracing the arm rests as he stared at Sage with surprise.
"What are you doing?" he asked, almost amused, his entire body shaking. His eyes were bright and youthful, the sun beaming into them from the window.
Sage glanced down at her own skin, covered by a giant shirt and nothing else, certain it would be sparkling the way it does when she was exposed to the sunlight. Her lips pursed in confusion because there was only a pink flush underneath the pale, soft skin that was pliable in her hand. Squishy compared to her stone, cold armor that she called skin before.
