Seraphiel woke to darkness and the smell of earth. Not the clean earth of a forest floor after rain. This was damp, suffocating, thick with decay and something sweetly rotten. It filled his lungs like water, and he choked on it, his body convulsing against whatever surface held him. He was not bound. That was the first thing he noticed. His wrists were free, his ankles unshackled. But he could not move. His limbs felt heavy, rooted, as if something had grown through his muscles while he slept. Panic surged through him. He forced his eyes open. The darkness did not lift. It pressed against his face, warm and wet. Soil. He was buried in soil. Only his face remained exposed, and even that was crusted with dirt. He spat it from his lips, blinked it from his lashes, and tried to remember. The portal. Jade falling backward into the light. His hand around Jade's wrist, the separation. Then the strangers had closed in, and the light had swallowed everything. After that, nothing. Serap
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