The cold was sharp enough to sting. My eyes opened, and the sting wasn’t just from the air but from the tight, metal cuffs bruising my wrists. My shoulders strained above me as I dangled from the iron chains. My toes barely brushed the damp stone floor. My mouth tasted like rust and my head pounded.

I could smell the scent of wolfsbane clinging to my skin. I was weak and disoriented but not alone. Boots echoed across the floor. I looked to see him - the one they called ...