──────────────⋆˖☽ 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 ☾˖⋆──────────────

The first thing I knew was nothing. Not the cold, empty nothing of a tomb, but a soft, warm void that pressed in from all sides. There was no light, no sound, only a blackness that felt absolute. Yet, a gentle heat seeped into my bones, a deep, cellular comfort that told me I was lying on something unusually soft.

A scent clogged the air—heavy and sweet, like night-blooming jasmine and something medicinal I couldn’t place. It was cloying, coating the back of my throat and making my nose wrinkle in distaste. I fought against the leaden weight of my eyelids. They fluttered, resisting, before peeling open to a world blurred and indistinct, a watercolor painting left out in the storm. The effort was too much; they fell shut again.

Through the fog in my mind, a sound anchored me: the steady drumming of rain. Not on leaves or stone, but on something hard and vast. I tried again, forcing my eyes open, turning my head with a groan. My vision swam into focus just enough to catch the slick, silvery sheen of glass. A window. A massive one.

My fingers twitched, but the message from my brain seemed to get lost on the journey. My entire body felt drugged and heavy, as if my bones were filled with lead. What happened? The last memory surfaced, sharp and fractured… the relentless rain… the shelter of the cave.

Ice flooded my veins. That man.

The image struck like a physical blow: hair the color of blood in sunlight, eyes like molten gold. What did he do to me?

Adrenaline, raw and corrosive, detonated in my chest. I bolted upright, and the world tilted violently. A spike of agony lanced through my skull, tearing a cry from my lips. I clutched my head, a wave of nausea rolling through me. A sliver of memory cut through the fog, sharp and cold. The jerky he’d shared. My stomach clenched. What was in the food?

I never should have taken it. Fool. I knew better than to trust a stranger, no matter how kind his eyes had seemed. But… he had eaten same jerky.

I pressed my palms flat against the mattress, intending to shove myself up. My muscles gave a pathetic tremor and buckled. When I tried to lift a foot, it was just as useless. My own body, a tool I had honed for years, was now a stranger’s, a traitor. Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the edge of the thick blanket to steady myself. I have to know where I am.

Dragging myself along the bed, each inch felt like a mile. I used it as a guide, shuffling toward the massive window. The rain intensified, lashing against the glass in a furious torrent. I finally reached the end of the bed and lunged for the wall, my palms slapping against its cool, smooth surface. I slid along it, one painful step at a time, until my fingers pressed against the cold, slick glass.

The storm was a churning grey wall, but through it, I could make out a blur of impossible green.

Suddenly, a deep, rhythmic thump vibrated through the floorboards, a sound so profound it felt like the world’s own heartbeat. A vast shadow blotted out the storm-grey light, plunging the room into near darkness. A shriek tore through the air, a sound of fury and predation that clawed at my spine. I lost my footing, my weakened legs giving out completely as I crashed to the hard floor.

Then another shadow passed, slower this time. There was no mistaking the silhouette: the leathery expanse of wings, the serpentine neck, the horned head.

Dragon.

The word was a silent scream in my mind. A violent tremor seized me. No, no, no. My bow… where was my bow?

My terror-widened eyes darted around the room, finally registering my prison. The walls were a soft cream, trimmed with intricate, gilded molding that gleamed in the dim light. Across from me, a grand fireplace—also accented in gold—sat cold and empty. A small, elegant table with two chairs was tucked near another window, a simple vase holding a single white flower sitting atop it. Everything was pristine, beautiful, and utterly alien. A cage lacquered in gold.

My gaze fell back to the bed, its plush duvet an obscene invitation to comfort. I don’t belong here.

Looking down, I saw I was no longer in my worn leather gear. My clothes had been replaced by an oversized shirt and pants of soft, unfamiliar cotton. A familiar tightness pulled at my chest. With a shaking hand, I lifted the hem of the shirt. Beneath it, the deep gash from the Crescent Moon Walker had been expertly cleaned, stitched, and bandaged. They had even tended to the minor scrapes on my arms and hands.

A hot, shameful flush crept up my neck. Who changed my clothes? The thought was a violation, a quiet intimacy that felt more invasive than the gash itself.

The soft click of a latch made my head snap up. I remained frozen on the floor as the door swung silently inward. A woman of arresting beauty entered. Her hair was a waterfall of polished jet black that fell straight to her waist, and her skin was the color of warm amber. She moved with an unnatural grace, her composure a stark, unnerving contrast to the chaos of the storm outside and the turmoil within me. But it was her eyes—a deep, familiar brown that reminded me of Sierus—that held my gaze. Her expression was perfectly neutral, but her eyes widened a fraction. “How curious,” she murmured, more to herself than to me. “You are awake already.”

My brows drew together. I tried to push myself up, but my body refused.

She glided closer. “You are still weak,” she stated, her tone a mix of warmth and clinical detachment. “Allow me to help you from the floor.”

“Don’t touch me!” I snarled, the words scraping my throat. “Who are you?”

She stopped, her posture impeccable, and folded her hands neatly before her. “My name is Mira,” she said. “I am to be your attendant during your stay.”

My eyes narrowed. “And where is ‘here’?”

A small, polite smile touched her lips but never reached her eyes. “You are in Luminethra.”

My mind reeled. Luminethra? I’d never heard of it. How far am I from home?

“You would not have heard of it,” she said, as if plucking the thought directly from my mind. “No one from the outside has.”

A flicker of strength, born of pure defiance, returned to my limbs. I managed to get one foot under me and shakily pushed myself up. The first step was a mistake. My leg gave out, and I pitched forward. Instantly, Mira was at my side, her hand a firm, inescapable grip on my arm, steadying me.

I wrenched my arm from her grasp, refusing her help. I didn’t say a word, just stumbled the last few feet to the bed and collapsed onto its plush surface, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

An uncomfortable silence descended. I stared at the floor, but I could feel her gaze on me, patient and unnervingly perceptive.

“What do you want from me?” I finally demanded, my voice low.

My gaze lifted to hers. “I apologize,” she said, giving a slight, formal inclination of her head. “That is not for me to say.”

I let out a bitter laugh, clenching my fists in my lap. “Of course not.”

“Our leader will explain everything, I am sure,” she added smoothly.

Leader. The word conjured him immediately: the crimson hair, the golden eyes. I opened my mouth to ask about him but snapped it shut. Anger swelled in my chest, hot and sharp. He drugged me. He brought me to this place. And this woman… I didn’t trust her for a second.

Mira took a step closer, her hand reaching into a small sack at her waist. She paused, her eyes locking with mine. “I am sorry, miss,” she said, her tone formal once more, “but for your safety and ours, I must bind your hands.”

My entire body went rigid. “Bind me?” I spat. “I don’t think so.”

She pulled a length of coarse rope from the sack, her movements fluid and efficient. The warmth was gone from her voice, leaving it utterly devoid of emotion. Her dark eyes pierced mine. “You really do not have a choice.”

She stood there, waiting. My gaze shifted from her impassive face to the rope. Rage was a useless luxury. Defiance would get me nowhere. A cold, sharp clarity cut through the anger. Let them think I’m broken. Let them get comfortable.

“Fine,” I bit out, thrusting my hands forward, wrists pressed together.

She closed the distance between us. I watched her hands as she worked, her fingers tying the knots with an expert swiftness. The coarse fibers bit into my wrists, a rough and immediate reality. I would learn what they were doing here. I would discover their weaknesses. But first, I needed them to let their guard down.

“Done,” she said simply.

As I pushed myself up slowly from the bed, her hand immediately slid under my elbow to support my weight. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from flinching away. Once I was steady, she released me. I let my muscles go slack, slumping my shoulders as if all the fight had drained out of me.

It was a lie, of course. Every ounce of my being screamed in protest.

“Follow me, please,” she instructed. “And stay close.”

I gave a single, sullen nod. With that, she turned and opened the door, revealing a long, silent hallway beyond. Inside, the fear and fury were not gone; they were banking, smoldering into a single, hard point of resolve. I would wait. I would watch. And I would find a way out of this place.

──────────────────◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ❨ ◯──────────────────

𝓓𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓪𝓭𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓲𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓻𝔂 𝓼𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓼. 𝓐𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼, 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓽!