Malrik POV
It took everything in me to stay composed when I saw the scars on Dravina’s back by the pool.
They weren’t just remnants of old wounds they were the unmistakable evidence of silver lashings. Burns that hadn’t healed right. Scars that hadn’t been allowed to fade. Someone had gone out of their way to make sure they didn’t.
It wasn’t discipline. It wasn’t rage. It was torture.
The kind of deliberate cruelty that made my blood seethe. The kind that left more than just marks it left ghosts.
I didn’t want to imagine the agony she must’ve endured, or what kind of sadist would take pride in leaving such lasting reminders of their control. But the images came anyway, uninvited and vivid.
When Dravina looked at me, I forced myself to mask the fury bubbling beneath the surface. Force
