The cistern cells were designed to drown a soul before the water ever reached their chin.
Selene sat against the weeping granite wall of the subterranean pit, her knees pulled tightly to her uninjured side.
Above her, through a heavy iron grate that served as the cell’s ceiling, the distant, muffled thrum of the Blood Moon war machine vibrated through the stone. Below her, through the rusted iron slats of the floor, the black, stagnant water of the fortress drainage system swirled with a low, hollow gurgle. The air was a freezing soup of mold and lime, biting into the deep lacerations across her torso.
The heavy iron bolt of the door shrieked as it was thrown back.
Selene didn't jump. She didn't adjust her posture. She simply lowered her chin, watching through the tangled fringe of he
