A sharp crack tore through the corridor.
The sudden motion jolted the butterfly away, its wings scattering as it drifted upward and clung to the rim of a wall lamp. From there, it hovered, unseen, watching the scene below unfold.
A sturdy man stood behind her, whip still vibrating in his hand. Prisoner markings wrapped around his wrist, half-hidden beneath his sleeve, worn openly without fear.
"Old meat," he barked, voice coarse."Do you need a special invitation to work?"
The whip snapped again, cutting air close to her back.
"S–Sorry… sorry," the old woman begged."I'll come immediately."
She bent forward in haste.
The movement exposed the marking on his wrist more clearly as he leaned down. He grabbed her hair and yanked her upright, forcing a gasp from her throat, then shoved her toward the corridor leading deeper into the fortress.
Her walking stick slipped from her grasp and fell.
He hooked it with his foot.
The kick came down hard.
Wood cracked and split.
