Hours later...
R A I D E N
The door opened with a slow, deliberate creak.
Stone and iron. Cold. Final.
The smell hit me first blood, sweat, fear soaked so deeply into the room it clung to the back of my throat. Torchlight flickered against the walls, casting long shadows that twisted and stretched like living things.
Liora was tied to a chair in the center of the room.
Her head hung forward, dark hair matted against her face, wrists bound tightly behind her back with silver-threaded restraints. Bruises bloomed along her arms and neck, ugly purples and blues standing out starkly against pale skin. Her dress was torn at the hem, stained.
Next to her sat her father.
Mr. Hale.
Or what remained of the man he once pretended to be.
He was slumped sideways in his chair, head lolled unnat
