Misty

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I open my eyes to darkness, blinking it away. My body aches like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, but I’m alive. I’m alive, and in a dungeon.

I rise to my knees, crawling to the bars that separate me from a dingy, damp hallway lit by flickering torches.

I hesitate before gripping the bars, but it’s iron, not silver, thank the Goddess. I’m not sure how much more I can take… wait a minute.

I lift my wrists to the torchlight. Twin silver bands–wide, and seamless–hug each wrist. They’re no chains between them. Nothing keeping me bound to the wall. Manacles. I immediately try to pull...