Elena
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Elena wakes with a sharp inhale, her head pounding, her vision swimming. The air is cold, damp, and heavy with the scent of stone and old magic. She tries to move — but her wrists don’t budge.
She’s tied to a chair.
Her heart kicks hard against her ribs. She reaches inward, searching for her magic, for the warmth that usually rises in her chest like a spark.
Nothing.
She tries again, harder.
Still nothing.
Panic flares. She pulls at the bindings, twisting, straining, trying to break free through sheer force of will.
A voice drifts out of the shadows — smooth, amused, cruel.
“You’re bound with magic that prevents magic. You won’t come untied. But do keep fighting. Exhaust yourself. It will make breaking your bond so much easier.”
A figure steps forward, the dim light ca
