Chained from head to toe, the searing touch of silver ate into Xavier's flesh like a relentless acid, leaving angry, charred wounds that refused to heal. The burn was excruciating, a cruel reminder of his captor's knowledge of his kind's vulnerabilities. His wolf howled in agony deep within, a caged beast rendered helpless. Days and nights blurred into an endless torment. The dark cell offered no solace—its damp walls reeked of blood and despair, and no sliver of sunlight broke the monotony of his suffering.
Xavier's wrists were raw and bleeding where the silver cuffs bit into his skin, and every breath he took felt like a battle. Yet, despite the pain, his mind remained sharp. He needed to escape, but the relentless burning of the silver left his strength waning. Still, he clung to hope, though it was fragile and flickering like a dying ember.
