Jafar.
The world spun as the weight of his words crashed down on me. Executed? My beautiful Charlotte, gone? The air in the cage seemed to thin, making it difficult to breathe.
I roared continuously; a sound laced with a primal grief that echoed through the damp stone walls.
They snarled at the cage, fangs bared and claws extended. Laughter, cruel and mocking, filled the air. My vision blurred with a mix of rage and tears, a dangerous mix that simmered within me.
Days bled into weeks, then months. The damp, dark dungeon became my new reality. They threw scraps of food at me, barely enough to keep me alive. But that wasn't their worst torture.
One day, a lean werewolf with a nervous glint in his eyes entered my cage. He was the pack "doctor," tasked with experimenting on me. He shoved vials filled with strange, glowing liquids of different colors into my mouth.
The concoctions were vile, some burning my throat like molten fire, others leaving me with a metallic tang that lingered for d
