Chapter 55.
The iron shackles were more than just physical weight; they were a persistent, agonizing hum that sought to drown out Rhiannon’s very existence. Every time she tried to reach for the magic that usually danced beneath her skin, the cold metal bit back, sending a jolt of numbing suppression through her nerves. Gorgon had left her alone in the damp cellar, the door thudding shut with a finality that suggested she was already gone. He had taken her silver dagger, her dignity, and a significant portion of her blood. Rhiannon leaned her head against the stone wall, her breath coming in shallow, jagged hitches. The gaslighting was trying to take root- the dark whisper that Fenris had seen the gold and the brand and decided she wasn’t worth the war. For a moment, the despair was so thick she
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