Kael´s POV
The first smell I caught as I came back to myself was that of burnt metal.
Silver.
Not in the air.
In my skin.
Inside it.
Every breath was a battle.
Every heartbeat, a jolt of fire crawling through my veins as if I carried blades instead of blood.
I tried to move my left wrist.
A metallic creak confirmed it: the shackle was tight, biting into bone.
The other hand didn’t respond.
My ankle… broken, maybe.
It didn’t matter.
I was still alive.
My back was pressed against a cold stone wall.
The floor beneath me was damp, a viscous mix of mud and piss.
A single candle hung up high, beyond iron bars.
Its flame flickered with every draft pulled in through some distant crack.
I had no idea how long it had been.
Days. Hours.
Maybe just minutes since they’d brought me d
