Chapter 87: Rage

After El-Kharis's rageful encounter with Alariel, they dragged her back to the cold, damp cell. Her feet scraped against the stone floor as the guards roughly handled her, their eyes glaring with contempt. Chains rattled as they clasped her wrists tightly, locking her back into place. The dim light of the cell felt even more suffocating now, pressing down on her as the heavy door creaked shut. The clang of the lock echoed in the stillness, a sharp reminder that escape, no matter how close it seemed, was impossible.

Alariel sank against the wall, her chest heaving, the taste of blood still fresh on her lips. She could feel the faint bruising around her neck where El-Kharis had gripped her, but she pushed the pain aside. She didn't have time for that now. There were plans in motion—plans they couldn't possibly understand. They were playing into her hands without even realizing it.