Drowning.
That was the only word Vyan could grasp in the chaos of his mind.
Not metaphorically. No. This was as literal as it got.
Water surged into his nose, his throat, his lungs, scorching its way through him. He couldn't breathe. Every instinct screamed, panicked, and flailed, but his limbs were bound. The cloth over his face clung to his skin, soaked and suffocating. It was like being buried alive in water.
It was like reliving the days from his past.
The burn in his chest intensified, and his lungs spasmed. His heart slammed against his ribs. His body began to shut down.
Then suddenly, the cloth was ripped away.
Air.
Or whatever pitiful trace of it was left in that damp, stinking basement.
He gasped violently, coughing, choking, hacking up water that felt like it had fused with his lungs. His vision blurred, his ears rang. Everything ached, everything stung. Yet even in that disorienting moment, the first thought that surfaced in his mind wasn't fear. It was—
