Chapter 4
Zara
The icy chill of the room seeped beneath my skin, draining the last bit of warmth I had left. Chains bit into my wrists, the raw skin stinging with every movement. She had bound me to this cursed chair—the one I’d come to hate as much as this place. As much as her.
“Stop resisting,” Morgana’s voice slithered through the cold air, laced with mocking amusement. Across the room, a man with greasy black hair shifted. Spencer. His ratlike nose hovered over a vial as he poured liquid into it, mixing another vile concoction like the obedient pet he was.
We’d been down here for hours—maybe longer.
Time had lost all meaning as they chipped away at me, tearing apart my past, my thoughts—my very self—and reshaping something new in its place.
My only anchor to reality was the dull, rhythmic pounding in my skull.
It reminded me I was still here. Still alive.
But the edges of my mind were fraying, and it was growing harder to remember why I was here.
Spencer turned and handed Morgana another vial.
She forced it down my throat, the bitter liquid burning as it slid over my tongue.
Then her hands came to either side of my head.
A sharp, splintering agony exploded through my skull.
I screamed, the sound ripping from my throat and fading into the suffocating void of this wretched place.
My head throbbed in time with the sick, twisted magic clawing through me, burrowing deep, tearing me apart from the inside out.
Something warm trickled from my nose, and amid the agony, a strange unease prickled at the back of my mind. Blinking through tear-blurred vision, I scanned the room for the source of my added unease. I lifted my head, my breath shaky as my eyes roamed the dark chamber ahead.
Shadows, darker and more menacing than the rest, were churning in the corner. They were thrashing and twisting with fury.
Within them, a pair of golden-flecked emerald eyes met mine, burning with rage.