Chapter 2 Maxon
Chapter two
Maxon
Irelease a groan as I shift uncomfortably on the cold, merciless stone floor.
The length of chain between my ankles and wrists is only about a foot, leaving me with barely enough room to move.
The one around my neck, anchoring me to the wall, is even shorter, pulling tight with every slight movement.
Each time I try to adjust my position, the shackles constrict further, biting into my skin and forcing me into painful submission.
The only relief comes when I manage to stay completely still, my back pressed against the rough wall—a near-impossible task given the so-called accommodations.
I look down at the shackles encasing my wrists and see dried blood crusted on my skin. These aren’t ordinary shackles like the iron ones most would use for the fae. They're made from wyvern bones, ancient and powerful, rendering all of my magic utterly useless.