Tyla’s POV
Pain blooms differently in this realm.
It doesn’t stab.
Doesn’t burn.
Doesnt tear.
It echoes.
Like the whole world is one hollow ribcage, and every breath I take vibrates through its bones.
My body convulsed on the lunar altar—cold stone carved from the Sovereign’s own realm. Silver chains pinned my wrists and ankles, each link humming with symbols I didn’t recognize but felt like warnings carved into my skin.
Every sound here seemed designed to terrify.
The hum of the chains.
The pulse of the ground.
The distant roar that wasn’t thunder—wasn’t natural—wasn’t anything from the mortal world.
And above me—
The Sovereign.
He loomed over the altar like a god attending a sacrifice. Except this wasn’t a sacrifice.
It was a test.
The second trial.
“Stop struggling,” he
