Pain was the first thing my body registered the moment I opened my eyes. It wasn't sharp and excruciating like the aftermath of Hunter's guards torturing me, neither was it as destabilizing as Vivian's insults. The pain that woke me was dull , just barely there to hint that I was still alive.
My eyes blinked to a ceiling I couldn't recognize. Even the stone walls didn't help in jogging my memory. Warm light filled the room and I traced it to a lamp shining in the corner. A small part of me had expected blood stained walls, and perhaps the stale stench of decayed bodies. That was usually the signature scent in the dungeons, so why was this different?
One more look at my surroundings proved I wasn't in the dungeon and I couldn't help but wonder why.
I tried to sit up, and winced as pain spread through my body. Something poked at my sides, and I came to realize they were bandages. Someone had tended to my wounds. Why?
I was a rogue, and rogues didn't get kindness. All we got was pain
