The chamber reeked of damp stone, charred incense, and something darker—the scent of pain itself.
Torches lined the cavernous walls, their flames flickering eerily as if alive, casting shadows that slithered like restless specters.
The air was thick, suffocating, pressing against Ariel's lungs like a vice.
She stood in the center of it all, frozen, fingers clenched around the dagger the Saya had placed in her hand. It felt wrong— cold as ice
Her gaze landed on the prisoner kneeling before her.
Her stomach dropped.
The body was frail, hunched over in agony. Their arms were tied behind their back, trembling. The fabric of their clothes was ripped, stained with blood and dirt.
No.
No. No. No.
The Saya's voice rang through the chamber. "This one is too weak. A simple kill. You should be grateful."
Grateful.
Ariel's grip loosened. She hadn't moved, hadn't even breathed.
This wasn't happening.
It couldn't be happening.
