Aveline
Serafina’s laughter was a jagged shard of glass cutting through the stagnant air of the underground transport. We were deep beneath the Black Fang Cemetery, the walls weeping with the dampness of the earth and the scent of centuries-old rot. I was bound to a rusted metal chair, silver-lined shackles biting into my wrists, the metal hissing against my skin as it suppressed the Guardian pulse in my veins.
"You look pathetic, Aveline," Serafina purred, stepping out of the shadows. She was still dressed in her emerald finery, but the silk was stained with the grime of the tunnels. She held a long, thin needle in her hand, the tip glinting with a viscous, translucent fluid. "All that 'Guardian' posturing, and here you are. Back in a cage. Back where a stray belongs."
I spat toward he
