Lena
The damp stone against my back had long passed cold. It had reached that numb, aching stage where you stopped feeling your skin and started feeling your bones instead.
I sat with my knees drawn tight to my chest, staring into the pitch-black corners of the cell. Every small sound; the drip of water, the rustle of straw, the heavy, rhythmic thud of the guards' boots at the end of the corridor, made my heart hammer against my ribs.
Then, a sound that didn't belong.
Soft, hurried footsteps. The scrape of a key in the iron lock.
I went instantly rigid, hands curling into fists as the heavy door creaked open just enough for a shadowed figure to slip inside. The hood fell back, and the dim torchlight from the hallway caught a familiar face.
"Elian?" My voice came out a raspy, fragile
