Warmth spread through my chest. Subtle at first, then stronger. Like drinking hot cocoa after coming in from the cold. The trembling in my limbs began to ease. My vision sharpened.
I could feel my strength returning, thread by thread, knitting itself back together.
It started in my core—a warmth spreading outward like ripples in a pond. My stomach stopped churning. My heartbeat steadied. The fog clouding my mind began to lift.
Then it moved to my limbs. The trembling in my arms faded—but not gently. It burned, like fire stitching through my muscles. I gritted my teeth. My fingers, which had been numband useless, tingled back to life. Pins and needles, sharp and relentless. I flexed them, testing, and felt the chains shift against my wrists, still binding my power.
My legs were next. Strength flooded back into muscles that had given up—but it ached, deep and throbbing, like bruises healing too fast. I pressed my feet flat against the cold stone floor and pushed.
I stood.
Not gracefully. Not easily. But I stood on my own two feet without my legs threatening to buckle beneath me.
One step closer to finding Darius.
I took a shaky breath, then a deeper one. Air filled my lungs without the stabbing pain of broken ribs. My back still ached—a ghost of the agony Alanna had inflicted—but it was bearable now. Manageable.
I lifted my head and flicked the tangled hair from my face.
I wasn’t healed. Not completely. But I was no longer broken.
And that was enough.
Now—these chains. I tugged at my wrists, testing. The metal held, but I was stronger now. There had to be a way.
Footsteps echoed down the stairs. Chains rattled.
Alanna. Not again. Was that why Ari fed me? So she could tear me apart again?
“We have some more guests,” Ari smirked.
Guards shoved two massive prisoners into the dungeon. Manacles around their ankles locked them together, forcing them to shuffle in unison. They wore nothing but tattered pants, their torsos bare and battered.
My breath caught.
Flint and Steel.
They were alive.
Dirt caked their faces and chests. Their heads hung low, their shoulders slumped with exhaustion and defeat.
Someone had beaten them too. Just like Alanna had beaten me.
Was there anyone in her kingdom that showed the slightest bit of mercy or kindness?
Their eyes widened when they saw me but neither spoke.
The guards shoved them into a nearby cell, the iron door clanging shut behind them. Neither man looked up.
Through the bars, I could see their backs—and my stomach turned. Bloody lash marks crisscrossed their skin, some fresh, still weeping, others crusted over with dried blood.
More footsteps came down the stairs, but these were softer. Hesitant.
Guards ushered a frightened blonde woman into the dungeon. Three small children clung to her tattered skirt—a boy and two girls, none of them older than six or seven. Their faces were streaked with dirt, their eyes wide with terror.
My heart clenched. Children. They’d imprisoned children.
The woman’s face was haggard, hollow with fear and exhaustion. She pulled her little ones closer, shielding them with her body even though there was nowhere to hide.
