Darkness pressed against her eyelids like a weight. Cold, and heavy.

Jadon groaned, her head pounding as consciousness clawed its way back. The air smelled of damp stone and iron, bitter, wrong. She tried to move her hands

A sharp burn seared her wrists. She gasped, eyes snapping open. Silver.

Thick silver chains wrapped around her wrists and forearms, glowing faintly with runes that pulsed like a heartbeat. They were anchored high above her head, forcing her to stand, her back pressed against ...