Chains rattled as Elia's wrists throbbed against the metal cuffs binding her to the cold stone wall. The faint torchlight flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the damp dungeon walls. Her gown, once a soft cream color, was now stained with blood, dirt, and shame. Her lips quivered from the chill in the room, but more from the fear clawing through her chest. Her hair falling messily around her face. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying.
She sniffled, still trying to process how quickly everything had spiraled out of control.
A guard dipped a cloth into a basin and dabbed her bruised face roughly. “Speak,” he growled, “what did you put in the Luna's food?”
Another one of the guards stepped forward, holding a small whip.
"You better start talking," he said coldly.
Before
