The dungeon was quiet except for the sound of chains dragging against stone. Aveloria walked down the corridors with Galen beside her, his presence a solid comfort as they made their way towards the cell where Eirene was.
Aveloria had imagined this moment many times. In her mind, she thought she would feel a surge of triumph, a sense of finality when she finally saw Eirene where she belonged—in chains, awaiting justice. But as the iron bars of the cell came into view, she felt nothing like what she had expected.
Eirene sat on the cold stone floor, bound in chains that glowed with enchantment. The metal still circled her wrist and ankles, and every movement caused them to tighten, burning her skin with a pain that was clearly visible in her face. Her hair was no longer styled the way Aveloria remembered. It hung loose and unkempt around her face.
