Lara, sitting in the cold and damp chamber of Thana's dark abode, felt an ominous unease growing as the hours passed. The thick, suffocating air made it hard to breathe, and the faint drip of water from the stone ceiling only heightened her anxiety. The chain around her wrists was icy, biting into her skin, leaving angry red marks as she pulled against it, though she knew it was futile. Desperation gnawed at her heart, but a flicker of hope remained, fragile yet unyielding—Magnus would come. He had to.
As night descended, the flickering torches on the walls cast long, eerie shadows, making the room feel smaller, more suffocating. Lara could feel the sinister energy in the air, thick with dark magic. Every minute that passed was another step closer to Thana’s wicked plan, and dread pooled in her chest like a heavy stone. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breath, her thoughts racing to Magnus. He must be searching for me. He must feel that I’m in danger.
Suddenly, the heavy iron
