#4: Nyra

Nyra

In enemy territory, sleep was a dangerous luxury. I knew it. Gregory knew it. Even the shadows stirring along the walls seemed to know it. Still, I let my head fall back against the damp stone and closed my eyes for what I promised myself would be only a breath.

The chains clinked softly at my wrists. The dungeon hummed with the familiar chorus of dripping water, scuttling rats, and the occasional cough from some poor bastard farther down the hall. Nothing unusual.

So when I felt the prickle of eyes on me, I thought I was only dreaming.

Then the bars screeched and a door I hadn't heard unlock swung open.

My eyes snapped suddenly wide awake.

The scent hit me first… wolf, but wrong. Sour. Rotten, like meat left too long in the sun. The air seemed to curdle with it.

The guards shoved a prisoner into the cell across from mine. He stumbled, shackled hands clawing the air, eyes wide and unfocused. His lips peeled back from broken teeth in something that might have once been a grin.

"Say hi to your new roommate," one guard said with a mischievous grin. He slammed the bars shut and walked off whistling happily.

The prisoner didn't sit. Didn't speak. He pressed himself against the iron like a starving animal scenting meat. And his eyes rolled wildly, never focusing for more than a second before snapping somewhere else, like he was following voices I couldn't hear.

I shifted slowly, shadows whispering across the stones at my feet. "And you are?"

No answer. Just a laugh. High, thin, wrong.

Gregory and I exchanged a look. Gregory, being dead, of course said nothing.

The wolf kept laughing. Then, as if the sound cut off mid-thread, he lunged. His body hit the bars with a crack of bone against iron. His head snapped sideways as though he didn't feel the pain.

Well, this is interesting.

I sat up straighter.

He slammed the bars again, harder this time. The sound echoed down the corridor. He was stronger than I'd expected, and his strength had no rhythm. Most fighters had tells – a twitch of a shoulder, a drop of weight, something you could read. This one had nothing but chaos and random movements.

His nails, ragged and bloodied, scraped across the bars until sparks flared. His mouth foamed, and he whispered something low and frantic that made no sense.

"Hungry. Dark. Bite the dark. Bite the dark. Bite the–"

I tilted my head. "Well, at least you're chatty."

He threw himself backward, spine bending wrong, then shot forward again. His body slammed so hard I swore the bars bent a hair's breadth.

My shadows hissed. They didn't like him. Neither did I.

It wasn't until his head snapped toward me, neck cracking like dry twigs, and his eyes fixed clear for the first time that I understood what it was.

Mind Rot.

I'd heard whispers of it. Wolves who lost themselves, eaten from the inside out. No cure. No sense. Just teeth and rage until death.

"Well at least now I'm not going to have to worry about the boredom killing me," I breathed, meeting those wild eyes.

He grinned, all blood and spit, and laughed again.

And then he stopped laughing and went utterly still.

That was worse.

I sat there, tense, watching. He crouched like a beast ready to spring. Good thing was that between us were iron bars and stone walls.

Until he started slamming himself sideways into the corner of his cell, over and over, rattling the bolts. He slammed again. The sound carried, drawing the attention of a guard who stomped over, snarling. "Shut it in there!"

"Tell that to the charming new present you brought to me as entertainment." I fired back.

The wolf whipped around, feral grin wide, and hurled himself at the bars. This time, one of the bolts shrieked loose.

I rose to my feet slowly, my shadows coiling tight around my wrists, ready to strike.

The guard cursed and yanked the door open to strike him down, but the wolf was faster. He crashed into the guard, teeth snapping. Blood sprayed the stone as the guard screamed.

The wolf tore him down like paper. Then he turned toward me.

My chains rattled as I adjusted my stance, ready for the fight.

The prisoner barrelled forward, dragging the guard's sword still wedged in his side. He didn't even notice it. His hands shot through the bars of my cell, grabbing and clawing.

I ducked, shadows rising in a thick wall. His claws raked through the black, scattering tendrils but not piercing all the way. Still, the force of it sent me stumbling back.

He laughed again. "Hungry!"

"Yeah," I murmured. "Me too, buddy."

He rammed the bars. The metal screeched. My shadows snapped out, curling around his wrist. They tightened like snakes, but he yanked back, dragging the darkness with him until it ripped loose. He didn't even flinch.

I hissed. That had never happened before.

He bared his teeth and slammed the bars again and this time, the lock shuddered.

I braced, waking my wolf from her slumber. "Fine. You want me? Step inside."

As if he heard, the lock gave with a deafening crack and the door swung wide open.

The wolf stumbled in, drooling, muttering nonsense between ragged breaths. Then he lunged.

Lyr snapped inside me, her claws coming out, her anger consuming me.

He swiped. His claws grazed my arm. Fire ripped through the cut. I staggered back, clutching it in pain as my shadows whipped around to shield me.

My shadows surged, wrapping his throat. I slammed him against the wall. The stone cracked with the force. For a second, I thought I'd won but then he grabbed the darkness itself, his nails digging in like it was flesh, and yanked. The shadows tore, screaming inside my head.

Pain lanced through me. I gasped, stumbling.

He grinned, eyes rolling. "Yesss."

He came again. His teeth snapped near my throat. I shoved my chains between us, the iron rattling as his bite sank into the links instead of my neck. Blood spattered from my already cut arm.

His head tilted. "Free." And then he launched again.

I ducked under, grabbed the fallen guard's sword from the floor. My shadows wrapped the hilt, guiding it into my hand.

"Stay down!" I shouted, shoving with both hands. Shadows poured from me, wrapping the blade, pushing it deeper.

Finally, with a crack like splitting timber, he fell. His body twitched once, twice, then stilled.

Silence rushed in, loud in my ears. My chest heaved. Blood dripped from my arm and shoulder, hot and sticky. My shadows trembled around me, unsettled.

Satisfied that the crisis had been averted, Lyr retreated into her cage, leaving me with an overwhelming exhaustion.

I stared at the body sprawled across the cell, the sword still in his chest. My stomach twisted with the realization that I'd just survived something I hadn't been prepared for.

Suddenly, the guards came running, their boots pounding down the hall.

The cell door hung wide open.

Not just open, ripped half off its hinges from the fight.

The first guard skidded into view, eyes huge at the corpse, then at me, then at the ruined door. His mouth opened to shout.

I moved first.

Shadows snapped out like a whip, slamming into his chest. He flew backward, spine cracking against the far wall. Before his body hit the ground I was already sprinting past him, my bare feet slapping wet stone, chains still dangling from my wrists like broken jewellery.

Shouts exploded behind me.

“She’s loose!”

“Seal the gates!”

“Kill her on sight!”

The dungeon corridor blurred, torches streaking past, shadows peeling off the walls to cloak me as I ran. I took the first stairwell I saw, two steps at a time, lungs burning, heart hammering so hard I felt it in my teeth.

They were hunting me, and they weren't giving up.

My legs burning but I kept running, as the outer wall began looming closer. I looked up to see a large wooden gate, half hidden by ivy. I shoved it open and ran through. First thing that hit me was the cold night air, as I saw the endless forest stretching far beyond the dark.

"Suck it, Lucien," I muttered, smiling and slowing to catch my breath.

I stumbled into the trees as the branches clawed at my arms, my breath was coming out ragged but triumphant. The keep's lights faded behind me, swallowed by the night.

Fifty yards of open ground between me and freedom.

Forty.

Twenty.

Lyr whined in my chest restlessly. Why was she so unsettled? Maybe it was because she could taste the freedom at our fingertips.

That was the only thought on my mind when suddenly, a hand clamped over my mouth, yanking me back against a hard chest.