The air in the dungeon was damp, carrying the scent of mildew and despair. Shadows danced on the stone walls as the dim torchlight flickered unevenly. Misery walked slowly down the narrow corridor, her steps hesitant but determined. Each footfall brought her closer to the figure chained at the end of the hall—a figure that could mean salvation or ruin.
Seraphine sat slumped in her cell, her wrists bound by chains that pulsed faintly with dark magic. The glow was eerie, casting her pale skin in unnatural light. Her silver eyes opened lazily as Misery approached, sharp despite her weariness. She leaned back against the cold stone wall, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips.
“Well, well,” Seraphine drawled, her voice low and rough. “To what do I owe the honor? Did the King send you to finish me off?”
Misery ignored the jab, her hands tightening around the iron bars of the cell. “I need your help,” she said, her voice hoarse from exhaustion and emotion. “If you get us out of here, I’ll set you free.”
Seraphine’s smirk widened, though her eyes remained calculating. “You? Set me free? You’ve barely got the strength to stand, let alone break these chains.” She leaned forward slightly, her tone turning mocking. “And what makes you think I won’t just leave you behind once I’m out?”
Misery’s grip on the bars tightened, her knuckles turning white. Her voice wavered as she said, “Because I’m willing to die for this. For my child.”
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with desperation. For a fleeting moment, Seraphine’s expression softened, her gaze flickering with something unreadable. But the moment passed quickly, and she leaned back against the wall again, her lips curling into a sardonic smile.
“Brave words,” Seraphine said, her tone dismissive. “But bravery doesn’t mean survival.”
Misery’s chest tightened, and she stepped closer to the bars, her hands trembling. “If you won’t do it for me, then do it for Eryon,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
At the mention of Eryon, Seraphine’s smirk faltered, and her silver eyes darkened. She studied Misery for a long moment, the tension between them thick and unrelenting. Finally, Seraphine spoke, her voice quiet but sharp. “If I do this, you’ll owe me a debt. A life debt. Do you understand that?”
Misery nodded, her throat tightening. “I understand.”
Seraphine tilted her head, her smile returning faintly, though it carried a dangerous edge. “Then we have a deal.”