Rayne had been imprisoned in a tower, and the wind outside howled like a wounded beast, scraping at the stone windows. They called the thin layer of straw a bed, and each time she moved on it, the iron shackles around her ankles clinked softly. Her back ached. Her stomach twisted with hunger. But worse than the cold or pain was the silence.
Silence meant they were watching.
She had learned that quickly in Araksa. The nobles didn't need to speak to hurt her. Their glares, the mocking glances from servants, and the ever-present eyes of the guards said enough. She was unwanted. Dangerous. An outsider.
Rayne curled tighter beneath the rough blanket. Sleep came in short waves-never deep, never safe.
A faint scrape broke the stillness.
Her eyes snapped open. She didn't move, only listened.
Another sound-closer this time. A shuffle. The quiet groan of shifting stone.
Rayne sat up, heart pounding. She scanned the room. Nothing had moved. The walls were the same dull gray. The small barred window still showed the black sky and half-moon.
Then she heard it again.
A whisper. Faint. Like someone breathing words into the dark.
Her blood turned to ice.
Rayne stood slowly, her chains dragging behind her. She pressed her ear against the wall, just beneath a long vertical crack she hadn't noticed before.
"...they want her dead before the next moon..."
The voice was low and male. Rayne didn't recognize it.
"...Prince Kael won't act. He's too bound by his father's honor..."
Another voice responded, sharp and full of venom. This one was female.
"...then we do it ourselves. She dies before the mark awakens."
Rayne's hand flew to her throat, where the faint glow of her crescent-shaped mark still pulsed beneath the skin. It had been fading since the trial, but it was still there.
Still watching.
Still waiting.
She stumbled back from the wall, heart crashing against her ribs. Someone was planning to kill her and not just anyone. Nobles. People inside the palace.
She had no allies here. Not even Prince Kael, who looked at her like she was filth. If he knew about this plot, he wasn't stopping it.
Trembling, Rayne sat on the edge of her straw bed. Her thoughts raced.
Who could she tell?
No one.
They would call her a liar. Or worse, make her disappear before anyone asked questions.
Her eyes darted to the wooden bucket in the corner. It was used for washing. Maybe... just maybe...
She stood, knees weak, and shuffled to it. The bucket was old, its iron handle rusted. She gripped the metal edge, searching beneath the water basin.
Her fingers brushed something rough.
A loose stone.
Rayne's heart leapt.
She pulled, slow and quiet. The stone came free with a soft scrape. Behind it was a narrow hole-barely wide enough to reach into.
She slid her hand in.
Her fingers closed around parchment.
She yanked it out. The paper was damp, the ink faded, but still readable.
"They listen through the walls. Trust no one. Escape is possible through the old servants' shaft behind the fireplace. Midnight. Fifth night."
Her breath caught.
This was the fifth night.
Her chains rattled as she jumped to her feet and stared at the cold fireplace across the room. It hadn't been lit since she arrived. She rushed over, ignoring the biting sting of the floor's chill through her thin slippers.
She crouched, pushing at the soot-covered stones.
One gave way.
Behind it, a narrow black tunnel yawned open.
Her whole body shook. She had a way out. A chance.
But the parchment hadn't said who had written it. Or what waited at the end of that shaft.
Rayne looked at the moon through the barred window.
Midnight was close.
And so was whoever planned to end her life.
The moon hung high, bathing the tower room in silver light that made every crack in the walls look like crawling shadows. Rayne backed away from the secret tunnel, heart thudding. The dark hole behind the fireplace whispered promises of escape, but also danger. What if it was a trap? What if she crawled in only to find herself buried beneath stone?
She wrapped her arms around herself, chains still tight around her ankles, and whispered, "Think, Rayne. Think."
If she stayed, she would die. She'd overheard nobles planning her death. They weren't bluffing.
But if she left and got caught... the punishment would be worse.
Her hand went to the glowing mark under her skin. That cursed crescent moon. It hadn't stopped glowing since it appeared.
That was why they feared her. Why they hated her.
A cursed mark.
A sign of something ancient. Something wrong.
She didn't understand it. No one had explained what it meant. Not even Kael, who had glared at her in the courtroom like she was filth.
Her throat tightened at the memory. His voice had been colder than the dungeon floor.
"She doesn't belong here."
Rayne had wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, but the chains and glares kept her silent.
Now, silence could get her killed.
She turned back to the fireplace. Her fingers trembled as she pulled away more stones, widening the opening. The shaft was tight, sloping downward at a sharp angle. Black and endless.
But it was a path.
Stumbling to the corner, she snatched up the ragged blanket and ripped a portion off. She put it over her ankles and wrists to block out the noise from her chains.
Then she paused.
What if someone came before she got out?
She scanned the room for anything she could use-something to buy time.
Her eyes landed on the water bucket.
Quickly, she tipped it over and let the water soak the straw mat. Then she struck the wall with the iron handle-once, twice-until the edge sparked. The dry wood in the frame caught fast.
Smoke rose.
Rayne coughed as it filled the room. She dragged herself toward the fireplace and crawled into the narrow opening, heart pounding with every movement.
Her fingers scraped against rough stone. The air was thick with dust and ash. Behind her, the fire crackled.
A diversion.
She prayed it would work.
The tunnel was suffocating. Every breath tasted of old smoke and dirt. Her legs were dragged behind her as she crawled on her elbows. With every move, her chains clinked softly.
It felt endless.
Her mind played tricks. She kept hearing footsteps behind her, whispers in the stone, hands reaching to pull her back.
"Keep moving," she muttered to herself. "Don't stop."
After what felt like forever, the tunnel split in two. One path sloped further down, into deeper darkness. The other turned left, where a faint glow shimmered.