Chains and Silence
The night inside the watchtower was long and cruel.
Dominic knelt against the cold wall, his wrists bound in rope that dug deep into his skin. Firelight painted his face in harsh golds and shadows, highlighting the lines of fatigue, the steel of his jaw, the fire banked in his eyes.
Around him, the group shifted uneasily. Some pretended to sleep. Others whispered about the murder, about the letter, about what prophecy demanded. Each whisper scraped at Lena like sand in an open wound.
Her mark pulsed in her chest, a steady burn that left her trembling. It did not quiet. It did not soothe. It screamed at her—choose, choose, choose.
She sat with her back against a cracked stone pillar, staring at Dominic across the fire. His gaze never left her, even as Kael’s shadows
