"You've to die, Alora!"
Alora's eyes snapped open, her breath hitching in her throat as if she'd been submerged underwater. Her hand instinctively flew to her throat, half-expecting to feel the phantom grip that had seemed so terrifyingly tangible in her dream.
The ominous grave, she again saw it in her dream after more than a month.
But why?
A cold sweat broke out on her forehead, the droplets glistening like tiny pearls. This was not just fear, it was a terror that was unfamiliar, creeping into her very being.
Her labored breath turned normal after a while as she caressed her chest. She looked for Magnus, but he wasn't around. "Did he wake up earlier than me?" Alora mumbled and looked toward the door. After taking a moment, she got down from the bed and went to freshen up to start her day.
