St. Amella

Warmth. A figure was sleeping under a thick blanket. The figure's chest rose and fell rhythmically as they slept soundly.

It was dark outside the windows. It was night. A slight mist had come from the mountains and settled in the valley.

Adam's eyelids fluttered. He was about to wake up.

While slowly waking up, he heard distant noises. Those clearly didn't come from the same room but from outside. Perhaps from downstairs.

He opened his eyes. It was so quick that it almost looked like he had already been awake, just resting his eyes shut.

"Blanket?" Adam sat up and slowly removed the blanket, but he was immediately hit by a wave of familiar cold and the memory of the sea.

He covered himself up again.

His skin had turned paler than usual, almost blue, like ice. There was a frigid feeling still lingering in his bones.

"Where am I?"

He looked around the unfamiliar room. It made him wonder whether he was still dreaming.