EMMALINE
The world feels like it’s crumbling around me, piece by piece, and I’m just here, watching it disintegrate, helpless to salvage any of it. The damp stone, the stale air—it presses in on me like a weight I can’t shake. I breathe it in anyway, because what else can I do? Each inhale burns down my throat and scrapes my lungs raw, and my chest aches with every shallow rise and fall. My hands tremble where they rest on my lap, the iron cuffs biting into my skin, a constant reminder of how little control I have left.
Because seriously, what the hell am I supposed to do?
I’ve been asking myself that question over and over since I woke up here, shackled and surrounded by rot and shadows. I can’t think of a way out. I can’t think of a plan. I can’t even think of what comes next beyond t
