☽ Nyra ☾
Lucan had turned the cabin into a prison.
He didn’t call it that. He called it a precaution. Strategy. Protection. But six days locked inside four wooden walls felt like slow suffocation. He had barred the windows at night. He had reinforced the door. He had moved the chest in front of it while he was gone, as if I wouldn’t notice. He left me with books, with food, with careful instructions not to open the door for anyone except him.
I read everything.
Healer records. Old council minutes. Ritual fragments. My eyes blurred from too much ink and not enough fresh air. By the sixth afternoon, frustration pressed against my ribs harder than fear ever had.
“I am not fragile,” I muttered as I paced the living room. Nia stirred beneath my skin, restless. Eager to get out. I understoo
