A few minutes passed before she was brave enough to try to open her eyes. Everything hurt. Her head was excruciating. She longed for one of her potions just to help her get through the never-ending pain. As her eyes began to adjust, she could tell that she was on a stone floor. The space was small and dark. An odd odor permeated the room like cleaning potions or disinfectants. A wooden bucket in the corner caught her eye. As her eyes began to adjust fully to the darkened conditions, she recognized a mop, a box with writing on the side advertising some sort of miracle substance guaranteed to clean stains, and then finally, a broom. She thought she might be sick. Frantically searching the area, ignoring the pain that wouldn't stop, she took in her surroundings. It was just as she feared.