"Why do the men always have the honor to fight in war when women have the power to bring the army down to there knees"
A ruthless man is nothing but a man
A ruthless woman is everything a man wishes he could be.
What happens if the rebellion didn't...
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Beneath the cold, suffocating grip of the darkness, I felt my body grow numb. The chains around my wrists and ankles, unforgiving and unyielding, were the only reality I could grasp, their cold metal biting into my skin. The room, a tomb of stone and shadows, whispered with every drip of water, echoing through the oppressive silence. The sound became a cruel metronome, each drop a reminder of how little control I had over my fate.
The air tasted like rust and decay—metallic, sharp, suffocating. My breath was shallow, visible in the freezing cold, and each exhale stung my lungs, the chill creeping deeper into my bones. The shadows seemed to play tricks on me, flickering at the edges of my vision, teasing me with the faintest hint of movement, but always out of reach. A single dim bulb overhead struggled to stay lit, casting eerie, sporadic light that only made the darkness feel heavier.
I shifted in the chair, the soft creak of the wood the only protest in an otherwise dead world. The silence was unnerving—so deep, so absolute. There was nothing but the drip of water, the cold, and the suffocating sense of time slipping away in this hollow space. How long had I been here? How long had the darkness swallowed me whole?
Five days. Five long days since I last saw the light. Since I felt the warmth of the sun. I could feel it in my bones now, the way the cold had woven itself into every fiber of my being. The metal cuffs on my wrists and ankles felt like an extension of my skin, as much a part of me as the pain that had slowly become a constant companion. Every passing moment felt like an eternity, and every drip of water echoed with an increasing sense of dread.
I strained against the restraints, my body aching from the effort. Nothing. No magic stirred inside me. My signet—my fire—was locked away, buried beneath the weight of something darker. The witchcraft in these chains rendered me powerless. No fire, no magic, no escape. Why was I here? The question gnawed at me. Who brought me to this forsaken place? Who thought they could break me?
The stillness grew unbearable, thick and suffocating. I closed my eyes, willing myself to break free from the walls that surrounded me, but it was no use. My mind kept reaching out to them—Xaden, Sgaelye, Araax—but there was nothing. No sign, no sense of their presence. They didn't hear me. They didn't feel me. I was alone.
Then, the sound I had been waiting for—a distant echo of footsteps—reached my ears, reverberating off the cold cobblestones like the promise of something terrible. My heart skipped, the fragile flicker of hope dying in the same instant. Was this the end?
The footsteps grew louder, closer, until a tall, shadowed figure appeared in the doorway. I could feel the weight of his presence even before his voice reached me. It was familiar, too familiar—laced with something I couldn't quite place.
"I really didn't want this, Nora," he said, his voice cold and full of calculation, "but it's necessary."
As he moved into the light, my stomach twisted. My pulse hammered in my ears. It was him. Kai.
