Chapter 6: Chains and Echoes
The courtyard was deathly silent.
Snow fell in slow spirals as soldiers lined the stone walls, eyes fixed on the figure kneeling in chains at the center.
Frey.
Hair matted with frost, wrists bound, back exposed.
Alvin stood ten paces behind her, holding the whip in one hand, his face like iron.
Captain Jern stepped forward. “The men are watching. They expect blood.”
“I know,” Alvin said flatly.
“Don’t hold back. We need to see you mean it.”
Alvin didn’t reply.
He walked to Frey’s side, leaned close.
“Last chance to change your mind.”
Frey’s voice was calm. “Do it.”
He stared at her for a long second. Then turned, lifting the whip high.
It cracked through the air.
The first strike landed.
A gasp rippled through the crowd.
Frey didn’t scream.
The second lash cut slightly deeper.
Blood beaded, steam rising in the cold.
Alvin hesitated before the third.
Her voice came soft, barely audible. “Don’t stop.”
He closed his eyes and brought the whip down again.