The Luna Queen's Rebirth (Ellie and Dominic) novel Chapter 137

Chapter 137

Ellie POV

I wake up choking on thirst,

My throat scrapes raw, like I’ve been breathing dust instead of air. Tongue thick and useless as I blink up at the dark ceiling, disoriented for a long, terrifying second where I don’t remember where I am or how I got

here.

My head throbs, pressure building behind my eyes. That’s when I notice I’m laying in a pool of my own sweat, my sheets and pj’s soaked. When I try to sit up, the room tilts violently, the shadows stretching and blurring as if the walls are breathing.

“Okay,” I whisper to no one, my voice barely there. “Okay. You’re fine.”

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and immediately regret it.

Pain flares hot and bright, lightning-fast, and I grab the mattress to steady myself until the worst of the spin passes. My pulse hammers in my ears.

I just need water. That’s all. A glass of water. Easy enough.

The hallway feels too long.

I press my hand to the wall as I move, fingertips sliding over familiar grooves and picture frames, grounding myself one step at a time. Every footfall sends a jolt up my spine. My vision tunnels, dark creeping in at the edges, and I swallow hard against the rising nausea.

I’m halfway down the stairs when it happens.

The pain detonates.

There’s no warning, just a searing spike that steals the breath from my lungs and turns my legs to something useless and wrong. My scream gags into a gasp, my hand slipping from the banister as my knees buckle beneath me.

For a split second, I’m weightless.

୮

Then the world lurches.

The stairs rush up, shadows fracturing, my head ringing as I tumble forward. Then everything goes cold and quiet and very, very far away. The darkness taking me before I hit the bottom.

I wake to voices.

Sharp ones, that are loud. Angry.

For a moment, I think I’m still dreaming, stuck somewhere between pain and fog, but then my body reminds me exactly where I am. The white lights and clean smell gives it away.

Everything hurts. Not in one place, everywhere. My head throbs in slow, punishing waves, my chest feels tight, and when I try to shift even an inch, something in my ankle flares so hot I gasp.

1/3

+30 Bonus

“I’m telling you, she was fine last week,” my stepfather snaps. “Perfectly fine. She walked, she ate, she went to school. You don’t just-this doesn’t just happen. We need her healthy! This is the worst time for this!”

“I don’t care if it’s rare,” my mother cuts in, voice trembling. “You’re healers. That’s your job. Please! Help my baby!”

I open my eyes fully.

White ceiling. Too bright. I’m wrapped in bandages-arms, ribs, one leg elevated-and when I look down and see my ankle, swollen and angry beneath the wrappings, a hollow fear opens in my chest.

That injury never healed right. Not after the mountain.

Great.

I make a small sound without meaning to. A breath, maybe. A whimper.

My mother is at my side instantly.

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