Pain came first.
It always did.
Maelis woke on cold stone, lungs burning as though she’d been dragged from deep water. The air tasted wrong—metallic, old, threaded with magic that clung to the inside of her chest. She tried to roll onto her side and screamed instead.
The sound tore from her throat before she could stop it.
Chains flared to life around her wrists and ankles, not physical metal but sigils burned into the floor itself. They reacted to her movement, tightening, biting into muscle and bone with searing heat.
Her wolf howled inside her head.
Stop—don’t fight it—
“I can’t,” Maelis rasped, tears streaking sideways into her hair. “I can’t—”
The chamber responded with laughter.
Not one voice.
Many.
They echoed from the shadows, curling through the vast cavern like smoke.
