Ariane:
I’ve always heard that love could be a double-edged sword. I just never imagined it would be pressed against my throat by the very hands that once traced promises down my spine, hands that swore to protect me even from myself.
The sky over Silverfang bled like a wound that refused to close. The moon hung still, watching like a single pale eye in a sea of bruised clouds. Everything in the air trembled with that awful, aching silence—the kind that hums just before the world collapses.
My knees hit the frozen grass with a crack that rattled through my bones. Pain lanced up my thighs, sharp and electric, and I bit down on a whimper, refusing them the satisfaction as my soul still worked to settle.
The ropes binding my wrists had cut deep; I couldn’t feel my fingers anymore—only the
