Bound by Dusk and Embers

Chapter Twelve - The Edge Of Despair

The moment Amberlynn woke, it felt like the air itself was suffocating her. Her head pounded with a fierce, rhythmic ache, as if the darkness had sunk its claws into her very skull. Groaning, she forced her eyes open, squinting against the dim, flickering light coming from a distant torch on the other side of her cell. The cold stone beneath her body chilled her to the bone, and the smell of mildew and dampness filled her nose. It was a prison, no doubt, and a part of her knew exactly whose prison it was.

Lady Eira.

Amberlynn tried to sit up, but her arms were heavy, shackled to the wall behind her. The rough iron cuffs bit into her wrists, the edges jagged and unforgiving. She winced, flexing her sore fingers, trying to get the blood flowing again. The metallic taste of fear filled her mouth. She tugged at the restraints, knowing it was futile but needing to try something—anything.

Panic surged through her chest as the memories of her last moments came rushing back. Lucaerys—the Fox of Shadows—had found her. He had tried to protect her. He had told her the truth about who she was, about the prophecy, and about the danger she was in. But then, Lady Eira had come, her magic swirling like an inescapable storm, pulling her under. Amberlynn had screamed for Lucaerys, had felt him reaching for her, but the darkness had swallowed her whole.

Now, she was here, in Lady Eira's grasp, her body aching, her mind racing with fear. Was Lucaerys still alive? Had he escaped? Or had Lady Eira taken him too?

She shivered, not just from the cold but from the sheer weight of her helplessness.

The faint sound of movement stirred her from her thoughts. Someone was nearby. She stilled, listening closely. The sound was soft at first, almost imperceptible—the rustle of fabric against stone, the subtle shift of chains.

"You're awake," a voice whispered from the cell next to hers, low and gravelly but filled with an odd, quiet kindness.

Amberlynn turned her head, her eyes adjusting to the gloom. Through the iron bars separating their cells, she could make out the faint silhouette of someone sitting against the wall, their figure partially illuminated by the torchlight outside.

"Who are you?" she rasped, her throat dry and sore.

The figure shifted, moving slightly closer to the bars. "Just another unfortunate soul caught in Lady Eira's web," the voice replied, weary but sympathetic.

Amberlynn swallowed, her heart still racing. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough," the voice answered softly. "Long enough to know there's no easy way out of this place."

She didn't want to believe that. She couldn't. "There has to be a way," Amberlynn said, her voice trembling but defiant. "There has to be."

A dry chuckle escaped the figure in the other cell. "Maybe. Maybe not. But I've seen many try, and I've seen all of them fail."

Amberlynn's chest tightened. "Who are you?"

The figure hesitated, as if weighing whether to answer. "Riven," the voice finally said. "I was once a soldier for the Court of Sylvaen. But now... now I'm just another prisoner."

Amberlynn leaned forward, her breath catching. "The Court of Sylvaen?" she repeated. "That's a Fae court, isn't it?"

Riven let out a bitter sigh. "It was," he replied, his voice thick with sorrow. "But Lady Eira... she absorbed it into Duskveil's shadows long ago. My queen is dead, my people scattered, and I've been rotting in this place ever since."

A heavy silence fell between them, and Amberlynn could hear the weight of his pain in every word. She felt a pang of sympathy. This wasn't just her fight—Lady Eira had destroyed many lives, shattered many dreams.