Chapter 63
Ciara's POV
The days bled together in the cold cell, marked only by the dull ache in my wrists where the enchanted restraints rubbed my skin raw.
At first, I counted the hours by the shifting light that filtered through the time-barred window, but after a while, I stopped.
There was no point. Time meant nothing here. I was beginning to believe that numbness was easier than hope.
The only face I saw was Lyra's, slipping in and out like a shadow. She never stayed for long, but she lingered just enough to place a plate of food in front of me and murmur updates in a voice too low for the guards to hear.
"They're still arguing," she whispered one evening, glancing nervously toward the main cell door. "Luna Eleanor hasn't let it drop. She's still pushing for an investigation."
