Chapter 37

The evening air hung heavy in Boon's tent, thick with the metallic scent of armor and the acrid smoke from too many lanterns. Arlena's chains clinked softly as she shifted her weight, trying to find a position that didn't make her raw wrists burn. The metal had carved perfect circles into her skin over the weeks, marking her like brands that never quite healed.

From his massive desk, Boon's presence filled the space like a coming storm. His armor caught the lamplight as he studied another report, the gleam reflecting in eyes that grew darker with each passing day. The messages arrived more frequently now, each one seeming to carry worse news than the last. Though he tried to hide his mounting tension behind cruel smiles, Arlena had learned to read the subtle signs - the tightening of his jaw, the way his fingers crushed the parchment's edges.