AMBER POV
The first thing I felt was the cold. It wasn’t just cold—it was biting, cruel, and bone-deep, like icy fingers wrapping around my entire body. My cheek pressed against a damp, gritty surface, the smell of mildew and decay clogging my nose. I tried to move, but the sound of rattling metal made me freeze.
Chains.
I cracked my eyes open, my vision swimming as I adjusted to the dim light. The room was bathed in a sickly, pale glow, shadows clinging to the edges like dark specters. The walls were bare stone, their jagged surfaces streaked with dampness. The floor beneath me was uneven, littered with grime and broken bits of rock.
I tried to shift again, and the sharp clink of chains echoed louder this time. Panic surged through me as I lifted my hands—or tried to. Cold, rust
