Islinda woke with a startled gasp, her heart pounding as though she had just escaped a nightmare. The room around her looked oddly familiar, bathed in the soft light of dawn. She pushed herself into a sitting position, only for a jolt of pain to lance through her chest.
She groaned, her hand instinctively pressing against the source of the pain. Her fingers found the spot where the injury had been, where she had felt the cold bite of steel. The memory of the blade sinking into her flesh was vivid in her mind, and the blood drained from her face as the events that had led her here came rushing back.
Azula. Oh no.
She could see it all so clearly now. The death duel in the arena, the roars of the crowd, the way Andre had grabbed her arm and tried to lead her away from the chaotic scene. And then, in the blink of an eye, someone had attacked her.
