The Enemy’s Embrace

The Enemy’s Embrace

The cold stone walls of the cell pressed in around John, the damp air heavy with the stench of sweat and blood. His arms were bound tightly behind him, his wrists raw from the coarse ropes that held him captive. The battle outside still echoed in his mind—the clashing of swords, the cries of the wounded, the brutal force of Nefertari’s soldiers as they had taken him. But now, the only sound was the steady drip of water from the ceiling, a slow, maddening rhythm that matched the pounding of his heart.

He had no idea how long he had been here. Hours? Days? It was impossible to tell in the suffocating darkness. All he knew was that he was alone, separated from his family, and at the mercy of his greatest enemy.