They’d left the keys there to taunt her. Naa lunged. Stupid. Like the first thirty times, the chains on her ankles tensed, snatching her back. Pain tore across her body as she slammed into the dungeon’s icy wall. She wheezed through chattering teeth. The glowing orange manacles around her wrists continued to shrink, their sinister laugh echoing in the darkness. She chuckled. Her tummy cramped. ‘I’ll need a long beauty rest after this.’ Wind whooshed in through the window slats, carrying sounds of distant brass harmonies and beating drums. The coronation! Seven days. That was how long the strongest–or most stubborn–magic wielders could survive before the manacles fused with their skin, sucking all their ability. It had been six days since Jasim threw her in, clearing the final obstacle to his coronation tomorrow. Naa’s chains rattled as she scrambled to her feet. She could not hang around for another day. If she could just reach the stupid keys! ...
Reader | Writer | Recovering Procrastinator