Brought to his knees before the kingdom after ten years of hiding, Kyros believed that he would be sentenced to death for the murder of his pack. His sentence would mean the end of it all - his torment, his abuse, his turmoil.
But his destiny change...
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His heart throbbed painfully in his chest as he awakened from his slumber. Sleep still fogged his eyes, and he struggled to find his bearings once more in the coldness of the damp cell shrouded by velvety shadows.
Unlike the many days before, this day was darker. He could feel the coolness from the absence of the sun leaking into his cell, and though he couldn't see the outside world, he could tell from the temperature drop that it was indeed a rainy day.
Something he feared. He was ashamed of being so afraid of so many things, especially something like storms. He couldn't help but associate the rain and storms with much darker memories, and the loud noises they produced was something that he was sensitive to.
A sigh escaped his lips as he leaned against the cold, stone wall. He waited for the guards to retrieve him, he knew that he would be considered healed enough to continue the day's trial.
The wounds ached from the cold, but they were sealed. Monstrous he looked with his unkempt hair, his scars, his wounds. He felt like a butchered piece of meat and knew he likely looked like it, too. He didn't want to feel any more physical pain, it was becoming too much to handle. His body shook with fear and he resembled an abused, forgotten puppy.
What did Asheria mean when she said not to thank him yet? What had she done? What was she going to do?
He had noticed something in the last couple of days.
He no longer had an appetite.
He had refused his meal when it was pushed through the door and chose to sleep instead. Lately, that's all he's been able to do. He found that he hadn't even woken up when one of the guards entered his cell to retrieve the tray of food after Kyros had never pushed it back under the door, like he normally does after eating.
Because when he woke up, the tray of food was gone.
He was always so tired, never having the desire to eat or even open his eyes.
He was convinced he was a dead man walking.
Guards bustled down the hallways and stopped at Kyro's cell once more. They roughly jammed the key in the lock and opened the door, entering his cell with haste. They were surprised, again, to find his food untouched, but they kicked the tray of food out of the way. It clattered against the wall loudly, the liquidy contents spilling onto the floor in a warm goo.
Kyros didn't move, his eyes were locked shut. His body was still and the guards studied him for a moment.
"Is he even alive?" One of the guard's voices broke the silence. He poked Kyros with the end of his sword, watching as Kyros only let out a shallow breath.
Two guards bent down and gripped him by each arm and hauled him up to his feet. His feet immediately gave out, and he landed on his knees instead. His eyes snapped open, wild, glowing, and terrified, and he launched himself backward in an attempt to free himself.
