Tired from sitting in the same position, Elara leaned her back against the cold stone wall, the rough surface digging into her skin. She couldn't remember how long she had been here, the hours seemed to blur together.
The air was damp and thick, the scent of mold and rot hanging in the dungeon like a suffocating veil. Her wrist throbbed where Ravenor had grabbed her, the dark bruises starting to appear above her delicate skin. She moved her hand to ease the strain, but the pain only worsened.
His touch was burned into her skin in the form of long purplish stands. She exhaled, the cold air making her shiver, though she wasn't sure if it was just from the cold or something else.
So much for trying to get away.
Now, she was trapped in a worst situation then before.
