ARYA

My head throbbed. The cold bit into my skin, the scent of mildew and candle wax thick in the air. Something wet was dripping in the distance.

I tried to move but was met with a resistance. My wrists were bound with thick ropes, and so were my ankles. A gag had been shoved between my lips as well.

I was bound to a wooden chair, my wrists twisted behind me, my shoulders screaming in protest. Panic surged through me, but I fought to steady my breath. Think. Just ...