Lucas’ POV
My wrists ached from the weight of the chains. Every movement sent sharp pain shooting up my arms, but I didn’t care. Pain was better than the suffocating silence of this place. The underground cellar was damp, the walls slick with moisture that seemed to seep into my bones. A single torch flickered near the doorway, casting long, wavering shadows that looked like specters creeping closer. I hated this place. I hated what it represented. But more than anything, I hated that I was here, trapped, useless.
My thoughts spiraled, as they always did when I was alone too long. Where was Elara? Was she safe? The not knowing gnawed at me, eating away whatever scraps of sanity I had left. I’d called for her until my voice was hoarse, screamed her name into the darkness, but no one answered. It was just me and the echoes of my desperation.