The first thing I felt when the cell door opened was the cold.
Not the cold of the stone beneath me or the damp air that clung to the walls of that miserable place. I had already grown used to that. No, this cold came from something else entirely, it was the quiet tension that travelled through the corridor outside my cell.
Voices, more than usual.
Boots scraping against stone.
And something heavier in the air, like a storm about to break.
I lifted my head slowly from where I had been leaning against the wall. My body still protested every movement. The wounds from the beast had barely healed, and the long hours in the cell had drained what little strength I had regained.
Aisha had tried to keep me alive with stolen food and water whenever she could, but it was never enough.
The doo
