Amara POV
Hours pass. I know that because the torches have burned down and been replaced. Twice.
The room smells different now. Less copper and more like ash and oil. The bodies are gone. No drag marks and no stains left behind. The stone has been scrubbed so clean it almost feels like a typical room you’d keep cooking materials and ingredients in.
Only the blood on me remains.
It dries in stages. Tightens on my skin and pulls when I move. My hair stiffens where it’s matted at the nape of my neck, each shift of my head sending a dull ache down my spine. No one comes for a long time. No guards. No voices. Nothing and no one.
When the door finally opens, it isn’t with urgency. It never is. But this time.. it’s different.
Four figures enter. Not like the ones who tried to chain me befo
